Essence of Love
by worldsapart
Summary: Hermione has to help plot Voldemort’s defeat, complete her 7th year, and keep Harry and Ron’s whereabouts secret. Will a special project lead to unforeseen solutions? And how will she tell Ron that she's falling for his decoy? No DH. FredHermione
1. The Right Moment

Chapter One

The Right Moment

It happened the first week of summer break.

The Burrow was empty in comparison to the bustling activity of the previous summer, and Hermione found herself wishing for those past times more often than she liked; she was far too young for those sorts of thoughts. Still, most of the house's usual inhabitants were missing, and though none were gone under particularly vexing circumstances – except perhaps Percy, but they'd all pretty much gotten used to that, hadn't they? – it didn't lessen that little aching in her chest that something was amiss. Hermione didn't dare consciously consider that the war was upon them, and that one day in the future those missing could be gone forever; it was too counterproductive.

Harry was spending his last ever, dreadful summer with the Dursleys, and while the Order kept careful tabs on him, he, Ron, and Hermione had decided to keep their contact to a minimum so as not to draw attention to themselves. Since the three of them had committed to spending at least the first month of summer doing extensive research on Horcruxes, the communication halt was not too great a hardship: there wasn't much information to be had, much less pass along.

Ginny was spending a few weeks with Luna Lovegood in Tasmania hunting wild Callamadoos, though Hermione suspected it was as much to escape all thoughts of Harry as it was to see her friend. They had both handled the break-up remarkably well, she thought, at least on the surface. There would be a time to revisit that issue, but right now the two were regrouping, both for their own sakes and that of the battle ahead.

Mr. And Mrs. Weasley were around, of course, when they weren't off on Order business. Bill and Fleur had taken a flat in London, to Mrs. Weasley's dismay ("They aren't even married yet!"), the twins had their place above the shop, and Charlie was back in Romania. That meant that most days the house was practically deserted.

That's how Hermione found herself spending nearly every waking hour – excepting those when Mrs. Weasley forced a meal upon them, whether the day had left them feeling hungry or not – sitting on her bed in Ginny's room with a book propped in her lap and Ron sitting next to her, at least _pretending_ to read. But it wasn't her best friend's research habits that had her interest. In fact, her own techniques had suffered abysmally since the first day he sat so close to her that the natural energy of their bodies made it seem as if they were touching, even if they actually weren't.

She knew she should keep her mind on the matter at hand – a confrontation with Voldemort was imminent, and they had to be ready – but there was something entirely too enticing about the way Ron always smelled like he'd just stepped out of the shower. Or the low timbre of his soft voice asking her questions every few minutes just to break up the silence. Mostly, it was just the knowledge that she'd loved him for as long as she could remember, and she was pretty sure he felt something for her, too. But now that they had plenty of time alone, he still wouldn't do anything about it.

"Can you pass me a chocolate biscuit?" Ron asked, interrupting her thoughts. It was the first Friday they'd been back, and they had decided to spend the day at the kitchen table instead of lounged on Hermione's bed, for once. Both of Ron's parents were away for the day, but Mrs. Weasley had left them enough food for a week and strict instructions to contact Professor Lupin if anything should come up. Ron could reach the biscuits on his own – would normally have just reached over her – but it was his unspoken job to make mindless conversation.

She set the plate in front of him with a smile. He smiled back. She asked, "Any luck with that one?"

"Nah," he said, flipping the book closed. He grabbed a biscuit. "Just some rubbish about old marriage rituals. Apparently wizards and witches used to literally bind their souls together. Bet that made the divorces even nastier than normal."

"It's not as antiquated as you might think," said Hermione reaching for the book. "In some cultures, particularly those with arranged marriages, it's actually pretty common. You should really pay more attention in History of Magic, Ronald. Will you let go?"

Ron looked down at the book and blushed all the way up to his ears. Hermione followed his eyes and saw that her hands were clamped down directly on top of his. She was suddenly very aware of how soft his skin was.

"Well, who would follow such a barbaric tradition anyway?" he said, letting go. He glanced briefly at her face, and then was immensely interested in his biscuit.

"You would, if your society asked you to," Hermione said, surprising herself with the sharp edge in her voice. If touching his hand caused this sort of reaction in her…. "Don't you want to get married someday? Would you let a little thing like the type of ritual stop you?"

"I sure as hell would!" Ron jumped out of his seat as if close proximity to her would be like taking such a vow right that minute. He nearly caused her to fall sideways off her chair. "We're talking about souls here, Hermione. Remember? The thing that's causing Harry so much trouble right now?"

"So what are you trying to say, Ron?" Hermione tried her best to keep her voice level, but as she rose out of her chair to meet him face to face – or face to chest, as he was considerably taller – the volume of her voice rose as well. "That you have such terrible taste in women that you could never risk it? Because if Lavender was any indication, I might be inclined to agree."

"Oh, and you have such good taste?" he said, taking a step toward her. The blush in his cheeks turned more pronounced with every word, though Hermione doubted it was still due to embarrassment. "Vicky Krum? Cormac McLaggen?"

"Don't you start in on Viktor!" She closed the last step between them. "He was never anything but nice to me, unlike some people." She punctuated her sentence by punching him lightly in the chest, marvelling for half a second at how hard his muscles were under his t-shirt before snapping back to reality.

"Well, there you have it then!" he yelled, grabbing her fist where it still rested against his chest. He moved as if to push it aside, and then seemed to think better of it. He wound his fingers around her hand.

"There I have what?" Hermione reached up to pry her hand out of his grasp, and only succeeded in getting her other one captured as well. "That you'd never bind your soul to someone because you're incapable of being anything but a loathsome git?"

"No." Ron's face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath on the bridge of her nose. She caught the scent and could pick out a mingling of tea and chocolate. "Because you're about the only person I can see myself marrying, and then I'd really never get away from you!"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Had she just heard what she thought she heard? She froze, her eyes searching Ron's for a sign that he was joking or that she'd misunderstood, but all she could see was an intensity in his blue eyes that had nothing to do with the angry words he'd tossed at her only moments earlier. His hand shifted around hers, releasing his grip but not his touch. She leaned a little closer to him, unconsciously splaying her fingers across his chest for better balance. She closed her eyes.

"What's all that yelling?" said a voice from the next room. "I told you I heard them fighting all the way outside."

Hermione and Ron sprang apart as if a dung bomb had just gone off between them. Only a second later, Fred and George walked into the kitchen. George was holding a small box, and he set it on the table. Hermione licked her lips self-consciously and stared at the ground, afraid to look up at Ron.

"I don't know how you two have stood all these years as friends when you can argue like that," said Fred, picking up one of the books from the table. "What's this? Studying for your NEWTs already?"

Hermione snatched the book from him. Even without having finished seventh year himself, it would only take a moment for Fred – or his twin, for that matter – to realize that _Darkness Within: Harnessing Your Most Powerful Energies_ would certainly not be included in their year-end exams. How stupid it was of them to parade the books around like their mission was no big secret!

"From the sound of it," piped up George, opening up the package he'd brought in. "There wasn't any actual studying getting done."

"Oh, shove off," said Ron, apparently having finally found his voice.

Hermione snuck a glance at him, but he didn't meet her eye. Damn the twins for their interruption. She'd been _this close_ to finally making Ron take action. In fact, she'd been _farther_ than close. He was about to kiss her; she just knew it. And now it would probably be another year before she'd gain back the ground she'd just lost. If it hadn't been for the possibility of upsetting Mrs. Weasley, she would have seriously considered murder as an option right then.

"Now, now, Ronnikins," George said as he sat down at the table in front of the open box. Hermione could see that it contained several little glass vials all separated by cardboard dividers. "You wouldn't want to go storming off before you see what we've brought to show you."

"It's our best invention yet," said Fred with a nod. He pulled out a chair on the other side of the table and motioned for Hermione to sit. She raised an eyebrow at him, but sat anyway.

Ron rolled his eyes, but he put one hand on the table and leaned in to watch as George pulled a bottle out for them to see. The liquid inside the bottle – for it appeared to be a potion of some sort – was neon green, almost phosphorescent in the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the kitchen windows. Hermione picked it up and turned the vial around in her hands. "What is it?"

"We're calling it _Morph Potion _for now," said George, pulling out another bottle. This one was blood red. "Though it will certainly need a better name before we can market it."

Hermione set the potion down and wrinkled her nose. "What sort of unnatural creature do these turn one into?"

The twins exchanged a knowing look, as if they'd expected her to react that way. She wasn't surprised; if she was predictable, they were ten times more so. "Dearest Hermione, this is much more than a simple trick transfiguration," said Fred with a wide grin. "Actually, it's our own special blend of Polyjuice Potion."

"Polyjuice?" said Ron. This time it was his turn to look at the potions in disdain. "What would you want to sell that stuff for?"

"Why, for the money, of course," said Fred, shaking his head in exaggerated disbelief. "Besides, who wouldn't want to show up at the Halloween costume ball dressed as their favourite rock star?" He held up the green bottle. "Or…Professor Snape." He plucked another bottle from the box, this one filled with pitch-black potion. "Lasts a lot longer than the other stuff, too. Twenty-two hours is our record so far, but we're determined to break twenty-four."

"You've actually got it pre-bottled like that? But how do you preserve the essence? Better yet, how did you get Snape to let you use him?" Hermione stood and moved around to their side of the table where she could get a better view of the boxes. She was all too aware of how close she was standing to Ron, and could have sworn he moved a few centimetres in her direction. Whether by chance or intention, she didn't know, but when she felt Fred brush her other arm as he squeezed in beside her, she was grateful for the distraction.

"Well, our exact recipe is a strictly confidential company secret," George said with a sly grin. "But let's just say we concocted a way to eliminate the individual physical ingredient portion of the potion. Guaranteed to be completely Snape-hair free! It not only extends the shelf-life, but also the duration of the effects."

Hermione opened her mouth to ask another question, but then screwed up her face in confusion. She looked back and forth between the twins a few times before finally saying, "I'm impressed."

Fred's grin grew so wide that she was almost afraid he'd split his face open. He leaned down and kissed her quickly on the forehead. She was so surprised at this movement that she almost didn't notice him holding out his hand in front of George. The latter twin, who had begun packing the potions back into the box, reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of galleons, and dropped them in Fred's hand.

"What was that for?" asked Ron. For the first time since the twins had arrived, he looked at Hermione. She shrugged.

"Fred bet me twenty galleons that we'd win you over with our brilliant potion-brewing skills," said George to Hermione, a wry smile on his face. He placed the lid on the box and stood up, giving her a little bow. "I apologize for my lack of faith in you."

Hermione giggled a little as the two turned and started out of the kitchen. Outside the confines of school, the two really were much more bearable. Out here, the only rules they tended to break were Mrs. Weasley's, and that was usually pretty funny if you weren't in the path of her wrath. She could almost forgive them for interrupting what they had. Almost.

"What was the counter bet?" she asked, suddenly curious. She stepped into the doorway to gaze into the living room after them.

The twins stopped and exchanged a look. It was really creepy to consider exactly how much information the two of them were probably passing to each other in that one motion. Fred gave her that huge grin of his again. "George bet me that we were gonna walk in on the two of you snogging." He raised his hand in an imaginary toast, looking into the kitchen behind her. "So thanks for continuing to be a clueless dunderhead, little brother."

With that comment, they walked out the door and were gone. Hermione couldn't move, knowing that only a few feet behind her was the last person on earth who'd give her the time of day after that little speech. Fred and George had really gone and done it this time. She'd thought their handy little bit of potions work had given them a reprieve from punishment for their timing, but now she wanted nothing more than to curse them both into oblivion. How was she ever going to face spending the summer with Ron now?

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned to face him. Might as well get this over with now, she thought. But the look on Ron's face was not exactly what she expected. In fact, she could have sworn she saw a hint of a smile. Not the full-face smile that he got when playing Quidditch or winning yet another chess game against her, but there was something there.

"Think we should call them back and make Fred give George his money back?" Ron asked. Now the smile went all the way up to his eyes.

She opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her with a kiss.

* * *

Author's Note: 

/swoon...Don't you just adore Ron? )

Well, this started out as just a fluff piece intended to give me a break from the serious topics addressed in The Secret Heir (my other current story, co-written by rainbowwisher). However, it soon developed a mind of its own and has become a Hermione-centric AU book 7, which is REALLY not something I ever pictured myself writing. It's good fun so far, though. I hope to focus more on the romance element than in the other story, and while the group's Horcrux search will be covered, it won't be as much of a focus as in a straight up canon-based "book 7."

I hope to update with a chapter per week. I'm a complete review whore, though, so your encouragement helps me write faster. No joke. My goal for this story is 50-75,000 words (unlike SH, which should be more in the 120,000 word range).

And if you haven't checked out The Secret Heir, please do. (Did you catch all those subtle plugs?) It's going to be well worth sticking out to the end.


	2. Seeing Double

Chapter Two

Seeing Double

It didn't take Mrs. Weasley long to pick up on the fact that something had changed between the two of them.

"Oh, Ron, this is wonderful," she said on Monday morning when she'd caught the two of them sharing a chaste kiss after breakfast. They had two blissfully uninterrupted days to get used to the idea of finally being a couple, but Hermione thought she could have stood a few more. Mrs. Weasley pulled her into a hug. "Oh, I knew from the moment you set foot in this house that I'd like to have you as a daughter-in-law."

"Mum," drawled Ron. The tips of his ears turned red in that absolutely adorable way they always did when he was embarrassed, and Hermione thought maybe she wouldn't mind their secret being out after all if she got to see that expression every time.

"Just wait till I tell your brothers."

Then again, maybe not. Sometimes Ron just had way too many brothers. She could already feel _herself_ blushing from the teasing.

"Mum," Ron repeated. "We haven't even been on a proper date yet. Don't go counting the grandchildren."

"I am quite aware of the process, Ron," she said, suddenly shifting to give him a stern glare. "So don't even think about—"

"Mrs. Weasley," Hermione interrupted. She could see the conversation quickly turning to a lecture on the birds and the bees, and while she respected Ron's mum's advice, _that_ was not something she was ready to discuss in front of him. "Do you think you could talk to the Order and arrange a time for us to go out?"

"Yes, of course, dear," the woman said immediately. "Certainly, you'll need chaperones for your safety, but you do need to go on a real date. Oh, Remus will be so thrilled at the news."

Once Mrs. Weasley had bustled out of the room, planning their "big night out" in a series of mumbles to herself, Hermione sank onto the couch. She was already mentally exhausted, and the day had barely begun. "How long till the owls start pouring in, do you think?"

"At least half an hour," Ron said. "Really, it depends on when mum tells Ginny. Once she knows, we're done for." He sat down next to her and reached out for her hand. She had learned several new things about him over the last couple of days, and his hands were one of them. The tops of them were soft, like the satin lining in her favorite pair of dress robes. The palms and fingers, however, were covered in smooth, tough calluses. From all his years of playing Quidditch, he had explained. More than once since their first kiss those hands had caused an involuntary shiver to run down her spine as they caressed her arms or her cheeks, so she supposed she didn't mind that they were a little rough.

"You wrote to Harry last night, then?" she asked. She tried to focus on the conversation rather than the slow movement of Ron's thumb across the most sensitive part of her palm. His absentminded nod revealed that his thoughts were elsewhere as well.

"And he wrote back?"

Again, Ron nodded. His caress had slowed and the touch become so light that it almost felt like she had an itch. She couldn't pull her hand away, though. Just the idea of holding hands with him, and the fact that he was paying attention to her _like that_ made the annoying tingle worth it. It would have been easier for her to simply allow herself to turn that small physical display of affection into more if she hadn't honestly wanted to know Harry's thoughts. After all, the three were best friends who spent most of each year together; she didn't want to make Harry feel left out now that he was no longer with Ginny.

"Are you going to tell me what he said, or do we have to play twenty questions until I figure it out?" she asked.

She hadn't pulled her hand away, but he let go all the same. Disappointment hit her for a split second – after all, she hadn't said she wanted him to stop – but then he settled back onto the couch and pulled her into his arms. He was warm, which would have been really nice any time other than the hottest part of the year. She snuggled up to him anyway. His scent…. She wasn't sure if it was natural or a special blend of Freshness Potion, but it made her stomach do a little flip-flop anyway.

"He said, 'It's about damn time'," he said in his best Harry impersonation. It sounded like a mix of Malfoy and McGonagall, but she still giggled. "And he slipped in that he hasn't found anything either."

"Well, we already knew that," said Hermione. She twisted in his arms so that she could look up at him. The little grin he gave her made her heart flutter. "I think Ginny's going to be terribly angry that I didn't tell her myself."

"Don't worry about it." He started running one of those hands up and down on her arm.

"I just didn't want it to seem like I was being insensitive to her troubles, you know?" Hermione continued, as if Ron hadn't even replied.

Ron shifted so that they were facing each other even better. He put a hand to her cheek. "Ginny's a big girl. She'll be alright."

When Hermione opened her mouth to protest, he stopped her words by running his thumb over her bottom lip. She suddenly had trouble thinking, much less talking. He was really good at that, using kisses to stop her rambling, and this time was no different. When his lips replaced his thumb, he kept the pressure light at first, allowing her to move to the most comfortable angle. Once she had settled – more in his lap than next to him – he deepened the kiss, and her hands instinctually into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Unfortunately, the more passionate their kisses became, the…slobberier they became. Hermione was sure she was doing something wrong, as Ron had had loads of practice with this sort of thing. She was entirely too embarrassed to mention it and admit her inexperience, so she settled for discretely wiping away the saliva on the few occasions they came up for air. Luckily, Ron was courteous about her need for breath and also for her need to take it slow. So while the snogging had been intense over the last few days, it had also remained just that – kissing. She needed to learn a little more about this step before moving on.

And fortunately for Ron, Hermione managed to maintain some of her awareness of the world around them. After many long minutes of smooth, wet lips and fingers running through hair, she suddenly jerked back from him, all too aware of the fact that they were snogging openly on his parents' couch.

"What's the matter?" asked Ron, his eyes still trained on her lips. She didn't have to answer, however, because his mum took that opening to come downstairs. Whether she had timed it purposely (a thought which made Hermione want to crawl under a nearby table) or it had been a lucky coincidence, she didn't know, but she was grateful for whichever.

"Alright, dears, I've spread the news," Mrs. Weasley was saying when Pigwidgeon swooped in through the door from the kitchen. She eagerly collected the letters he was carrying. "Oh my, replies already."

Hermione scooted a little farther away from Ron on the couch, but he grabbed her hand as if trying to make sure she didn't leave his side altogether. Mrs. Weasley seated herself in one of the armchairs and broke the seal on the first letter as eagerly as if it were a Christmas present. Hermione supposed she couldn't blame the woman; after all, the only serious girlfriend any of her sons had was Fleur, and while things were better on that front, the two women were not exactly close. Still, Ron's mum's eagerness was a bit disconcerting. It wasn't as if they were discussing _marriage_ or anything. She shuddered involuntarily.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked, a frown of concern spreading across his face. Mrs. Weasley looked up from her letter as well.

"No, I'm fine," said Hermione. "Just a muscle twitch."

But in reality, it had just occurred to her that they _had_ been discussing marriage recently, and in no uncertain terms. When discussed as a concept, it sounded great. Before she and Ron had actually acted on their feelings, she had definitely had plenty of wedding day fantasies, most of which included him as the groom. But marry Ron? It was sort of a strange thought, now that the possibility had became a reality. She loved him. But did she want to marry him?

Mrs. Weasley had looked back down at her letter and was smiling widely at whatever the reply had been. She was positively beaming, actually. Was Hermione overreacting to think that everyone was suddenly entirely too focused on her relationship with Ron? Then she laughed to herself. She was being silly, really. Mrs. Weasley was prone to get excited about that sort of thing anyway, and there was no way Ron was ready for marriage either, even if he'd thought about it.

"Hello, everyone," came a voice from the doorway. Hermione turned to see Mr. Weasley walk in, hang his hat and cloak on their usual hooks, and then stand in the entryway awkwardly.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley's voice sounded surprised, so apparently it wasn't her recent flurry of communications that had brought him home so early in the day. She stood and took a few steps toward him. "Is everything alright? Harry?"

"Yes, yes, Harry's fine, Molly. Everyone's fine." His eyes roamed the room and landed on Ron and Hermione, who were sitting close and holding hands. He grinned widely. "Well, if it isn't the happy couple."

Hermione felt herself flush for at least the tenth time that day already, and she was sure Ron was doing the same. She was about to sneak a glance in his direction when the front door opened once again, and in walked…another Mr. Weasley?

Molly, Ron and Hermione all flew to their feet, wands at the ready. What in the world was going on? There were only two possibilities that came readily to Hermione's mind. The first, and least unpleasant, was that something had happened that morning to cause Mr. Weasley need to come home, and to have Tonks follow along a different path as a decoy. The other option was that these were Death Eaters in disguise, but why they were both polyjuiced as Mr.—

Hermione lowered her wand. "Really. One would think you two would be more careful in times like these. You're lucky we ask questions first, jinx second." She sat back down on the couch. Ron looked at her as if she'd just said that house elves deserved their slavery.

"Alright, alright," said Mr. Weasley Number One. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red pill, then swallowed it. She could see Mr. Weasley Number Two doing the same. A few seconds later, Fred and George were standing there in place of their father.

Mrs. Weasley sank back into her chair with a hand to her chest and her mouth wide with disbelief. She didn't seem to know what to say.

Ron's expression mimicked his mother's. "Are you bloody mad?" he yelled, still not lowering his wand.

Fred, AKA Mr. Weasley Number One, shrugged and took a seat in the other armchair. "We did a little tweaking to the recipe last night," he explained. "Thought it was about time for a true test run."

"Seemed to work quite well," said George to his twin. The nodded at each other, ignoring the fact that their family members were still staring at them in shock. "I was afraid if I didn't come in and break up the party, mum might try and kiss you."

"You're off your rocker," said Ron. He looked at Hermione for support.

She only shrugged, almost mimicking Fred. "Actually, it's rather brilliant. Looked just like him, didn't it?"

"Yes, I knew we liked you, 'Mione," said George as he sat on the couch next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. "Takes a genius to know a genius, I guess."

She wasn't sure whether she should be flattered to be called a genius or disgusted to have her intellect compared to ones used for pranking. She watched as Fred went over and put a hand on his mother's shoulder, muttering, apparently, some apologies and reassurances, as Mrs. Weasley soon fixed him with a determined smile.

"Well, as long we're all going to be home, I might as well fix us a hearty lunch," the woman said, rising from her chair.

"All?" said Ron, raising an eyebrow.

"You didn't think mum would let this milestone go uncelebrated, did you?" said Fred with a short laugh. "With all this You-Know-Who nonsense going on, and with Mrs. Delacoeur taking over the wedding plans…."

"Ronald!" called Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen. "Go and put on your best robes, dear. We wouldn't want our guests to see you in those shabby things."

Hermione looked at Ron just in time to see a grumpy face appear where she had expected him to be blushing. He looked away from her, tugging self-consciously at the unravelling hem of his – yes, faded and slightly shabby – shirt. She touched his face, and he reluctantly turned to look at her. She turned under the edge of his collar that had, she suspected, gotten twisted during their snogging session earlier.

"I love this shirt," she whispered. She heard George clear his throat behind her, but did not pay attention to him. "It's soft, and it shows off your muscles."

The comment accomplished precisely what she meant it to, though there was no reason it shouldn't have, for it was the full truth. Ron smiled at her – a small, no-frills-all-admiration smile – and then gave her a long, slow kiss. He dashed off toward the stairs. "I'll be right back down."

George made a retching sound. "Save it for the wedding, you two," he said, loud enough that Hermione knew Ron couldn't have missed it.

"Who said anything about a wedding?" asked Hermione. She was proud of being able to keep her voice perfectly even. No shouting, nor a single stutter. The same couldn't be said for her heartbeat. It was racing faster than the speed of light.

"Oh, there will be a wedding," said Fred. "With a girl like you, there's gotta be a wedding."

"What do you mean 'a girl like you'?" For the second time in only a few minutes, she wasn't sure how to take a comment. Was the newness of this relationship with Ron clouding her judgement?

"Oh, you know…" Fred started, but did not elaborate. Was he actually speechless? What was the world coming to?

"What my incredibly handsome brother is trying to say," said George, turning toward her, "Is that beautiful, intelligent sorts of girls like you rarely stay on the market long."

"Damn right they don't," said Ron as he plummeted back down the stairs. If it had been anyone but the twins around, Hermione might have thought Ron was afraid to leave her alone with anyone else. That he was jealous.

As Ron came back and took his seat beside her – wearing much "nicer" but also much _scratchier _clothes – Hermione stole a glance over at Fred. _Well, bugger all_, thought Hermione, choking back the giggle she found forming in her throat. Fred Weasley wasn't just speechless…he was blushing from his neck all the way up to his ears. Apparently that was something _all_ the Weasley men had in common. And it was a little disconcerting that she found it equally adorable on all of them.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

Not much to say other than that I love the Weasleys! I wish I could have them all get the girl…but that would be a little disturbing. Hope you liked this chapter. Chapter Three should (hopefully) be up sometime this week.

As a side note…yes, I've finished reading _Deathly Hallows_, but for the sake of anyone else who might read reviews, please don't post any spoilers for now. Not that it's directly related to this story (other than the fact that this is now officially a _complete _AU, LOL), but I thought I'd put that little friendly reminder out there.

PS - Read _The Secret Heir_. LOL. /shamelessplug


	3. A Special Project

Chapter Three

A Special Project

Hermione received Ginny's Howler a week and a half later (most of which Errol had spent lost in the wilds of Australia).

When it arrived, she and Ron were in a rather compromising position in the coat closet near the front door and didn't know about the elderly owl's return. In fact, Hermione didn't know about much other than the feel of Ron's lips on her neck, her temples, her ears…. But what she did know is that the twins had been spending an inordinate amount of time at the Burrow lately. The two had served as the Order's official chaperones on her first date with Ron, and she'd begun to suspect that Mrs. Weasley had also employed them to make sure the new couple didn't get into too much "funny business" while the parents were out of the house. As a result, they'd become a bit more…creative in their rendezvous spots.

She started to push Ron away as soon as she heard the racket begin just on the other side of the thin closet door. Ron proved the theory that men's brains reside elsewhere than their heads by simply giving her a strange look and then pulling her to his chest once again. Didn't he hear that noise? If he didn't, surely Fred and George did, and soon they—

The door opened. George stood there staring at them, a highly amused smirk on his face. Hermione smoothed down her shirt self-consciously and stepped away from her boyfriend, who stubbornly grabbed her hand before they exited their hiding place. Unfortunately, these types of intrusions were becoming common enough that Ron's likely reaction was anger, rather than embarrassment, and it wasn't nearly as cute.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked. The noise seemed to have stopped. She glanced around the room and saw Fred clutching Errol in his arms. "Oh no! Is he alright?" She took a few steps toward them, forcing Ron to relinquish her hand.

"If being five million years old and dumber than a flobberworm is 'alright'," Fred answered. He held the bird out to her. "Not sure if I can say the same for you."

That's when Hermione saw the bright red envelope. With shaking hands, she grabbed it and broke the seal – she knew better than to wait.

"HERMIONE GRANGER, HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL ME BEFORE MUM?" Ginny's voice reverberated throughout the room. One of the pictures on the mantle vibrated before toppling forward. "I THOUGHT WE WERE BEST FRIENDS, AND NOW YOU KEEP THIS FROM ME?"

Hermione knew without needing to look in a mirror that her whole body was probably blushing. She imagined the entire neighbourhood could probably hear Ginny's Mrs. Weasley-worthy rant. And if not all of the neighbours, it was bad enough that Fred and George were both standing there grinning at her as if they'd just heard her deepest, darkest secret, when they were the ones who'd been catching (and frequently exchanging money over) the couple's hidden embraces constantly for the past couple of weeks.

"WHEN I GET HOME, YOU AND I ARE NOT LEAVING MY ROOM UNTIL I'VE HEARD ALL THE DETAILS. Oh god. You two didn't do anything on my bed, did you? No, maybe I don't want all the details. He is my brother, after all. Well, give mum and dad my love, and remind them I'll be home on the eighth."

"Wait," said George, "today is—"

"July eighth," Fred finished.

"GLAD TO SEE YOU SO PREPARED FOR ME!"

For a moment, Hermione thought that the Howler had started up again, despite it lying dormant in her hand. Then she turned and saw Ginny standing in the doorway, her school trunks (now surely laden with souvenirs) on the ground behind her.

"Ginny…" Hermione started, pulling at a strand of hair nervously.

Ginny bowled her over in a hug. Relief flooded through Hermione. She didn't realize exactly how much she'd been dreading her friend's reaction. She exchanged a look with Ron who smiled almost as big as he had after their first kiss.

"Hi Fred, George, Ron. Did you miss me?" asked Ginny with a sly smile. She grabbed Hermione's hand. "Come on. I wasn't joking."

Hermione gave Ron a helpless look, but the grin had already fallen off of his face. What did he expect? That they would keep trying to find secluded areas to snog each other senseless the whole summer? With seven kids in the family, the Burrow wasn't exactly tiny, but they had already had to abandon some of the easiest spots. And with the wards Mad-Eye Moody had added, they were limited on the useable outdoor areas as well. Besides, now that Ginny was home, he wouldn't have Hermione to himself all the time anyway.

She followed Ginny upstairs, barely able to keep up with the girl's anxious steps. They were inside the bedroom with the door closed less than a minute after Ginny had walked in the front door. Hermione sat down on her bed, trying her best not to imagine the time she'd spent there with Ron next to her and failing miserably. Ginny ran a hand over her own neatly made bed as if testing for contamination.

"Gin, I—"

"I'm not mad," said Ginny, turning to face the other witch. The expression on her face wasn't exactly one of happiness. In fact, she looked almost…scared.

"Ginny, what is it?" Hermione arose from the bed almost immediately, all thoughts of Ron evaporating instantly. She thought of Harry. Had something happened? Why had no one told them?

"I think Luna and I were being followed," she said slowly, looking Hermione straight in the eye.

"Followed? When?"

"The whole time we were in Tasmania," said Ginny.

"You don't think it was…."

Ginny nodded. "I'm almost sure of it. Luna, too."

Hermione began pacing the room at a frantic speed. "But why? If there were Death Eaters following you…. You've got to tell the Order."

"Already done," said Ginny. She went to her friend and put a hand on her shoulder. Hermione stopped and turned. "And you _know_ why."

Hermione's thoughts swirled. Of course she did. There could only be one reason Death Eaters would stalk, but not attack, Ginny and Luna – they were waiting to see if Harry was going to show up. Thank god they had convinced him to wait a month before recommencing the Horcrux search. Otherwise….

"I also know there's something you three aren't telling me," Ginny continued. At Hermione's look she added, "Don't launch into the speech about how Harry has a secret mission and you can't share, blah, blah. I've heard it. I just want to be sure _you_ at least understand what kind of danger we're talking about here. Then maybe you'll be able to keep those boys from doing anything supremely stupid."

The first thought that popped into Hermione's head was that Harry and Ron trusted her advice, but that didn't mean they always followed it. But she knew that wasn't what her friend needed to hear, and, frankly, the reality of Ginny being followed on her trip (many thousands of miles from Harry's current location) was scary even for her. They were playing a dangerous adult game now, whether any of them liked it or not.

"My parents are never going to let me leave the house again," said Ginny when it was apparent that Hermione, for once, could not think of what to say. She sat on the bed, frowning. Hermione sat next to her. "At least you've got Ron to keep you company."

Hermione squirmed uneasily. "You weren't too mad, were you?"

"I was bloody furious! But I still think it's brilliant." Ginny bounced up and down as if she suddenly had nothing weighing her down at all. She was good at that – taking one's mind off of the bad things. Hermione supposed it was a talent she'd picked up from the twins. "Did you get to go on that date mum mentioned?"

Hermione felt the grin widening on her face despite the twisted feeling she still had in her stomach. "We went to the Faded Rose Cantina. I don't quite remember where it was…."

"I know the place," said Ginny. "That's where mum and dad went for their twentieth wedding anniversary. Mum raved about it for weeks."

"It _was_ really nice. I don't think Ron liked it, though."

"Why on earth not?" asked Ginny, scowling. "He was there with you, wasn't he? I'm going to have to teach that clueless boy a thing or two."

Hermione grabbed Ginny's arm as if the witch needed to be held back. From the look on her face, she was almost ready to head downstairs and hex Ron already. "Oh no, he was perfectly wonderful to me. I could just tell it was a bit…much for him."

"So, did he finally kiss you?"

"Merlin, Ginny! Do you really think he waited until our date to kiss me? We've done practically nothing else. When Harry hears about how little we've been researching—"

Hermione broke off as soon as she realized that Ginny's interested look was due to more than just the snogging sessions with Ron. Hell, the girl was good. She didn't even have to try, and the secrets still wanted to come out.

"We better get back downstairs," said Hermione, hoping that ignoring her previous words would give her friend the hint that it wasn't open for discussion. "You know Ron will be up here any minute to check on me."

"Like I would _actually_ kill his girlfriend…."

As they walked out into the hall, Hermione felt a hand on her arm. She probably would have jumped – especially considering the conversation she and Ginny had just had – but she was fully expecting Ron to be listening at the door. When she turned, however, she saw not Ron, but Fred.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked. There was something about his look that scared her a little. When she glanced and saw that Ginny was already heading downstairs, not paying attention to the two above her, Hermione nodded and followed him into a room. What in the world could have put such a serious expression on the prankster's face, and why did it involve her?

"What's going on, Fred?"

He walked over to a shelf and ran a finger along the edge of one of the cauldrons lined up there, as if he were examining it for flaws. Hermione realized that she was in the twins' old bedroom. Mrs. Weasley had obviously had her way with the place since Fred and George had officially moved out, and those cauldrons were some of the few remaining vestiges of their days at the Burrow.

"I need your help with something."

Before she could stop herself, Hermione laughed aloud. "I'm not helping you with some gag or testing a new product. I think you've got me confused with someone."

Fred didn't smile. If anything, he was as close to frowning as Hermione had ever seen him (when unprovoked by Dolores Umbridge or, well, death). He pushed the cauldron back on the shelf a little too roughly, and she heard glass shattering. Cursing under his breath, he raised his wand and muttered a few words.

Frowning herself, Hermione took a couple of steps closer to him. "What's the matter? I thought—"

"The same thing everyone else thinks. The Order, mum, even George. I could _really_ be doing something, and instead I'm stuck babysitting."

She jerked back as if physically stung. "Babysitting!"

The tone of her voice must have been what did it, because immediately Fred's face softened, settling into more surprised panic than anger. "Hermione, I didn't mean that."

"Oh good," she spat, as if he'd just hurled another insult rather than a half-hearted apology. The fear that still welled in her stomach combined with the blood now boiling in her brain was starting to make her feel light-headed. "I'm so glad that your brother's safety and mine isn't so insignificant as minding a child after all!"

"I just thought," he started. Then suddenly he started back toward the door. "Never mind. Forget I said anything. And don't say anything to Ron, all right? I'll never hear the end of it."

"You're serious."

He stopped walking, and then paused for a second before finally turning to face her again. Hermione thought she could detect the slightest hint of mischief back in his eyes. "No, I'm Fred. Pleased to meet you."

She almost screamed in frustration, but instead she watched him for another few seconds. There was a small smile now twitching at the corners of his mouth, but otherwise he was unmoving. He was watching her back, waiting for her. There was no rushed speech trying to convince her, no flurried display of products. Did he really need her help for something?

"I'm not sure why you're talking to me, Fred," she started, trying her best not to break eye contact despite the intensity with which his eyes met hers. "Why do you need me?"

"Because if you can't take me seriously, then I'm certain no one else will," he said, running a hand through his shaggy hair ("Why don't you trim yours up like George?" Hermione remembered Mrs. Weasley asking on several occasions.). "Plus, you're brilliant. No one else appreciated the Morph Potion like we did."

"But George—"

"Thinks it's a lot of fun to play dress up." At her look, he laughed a little. "All right, I admit that the idea of showing up at this year's Christmas gathering as Celestina Warbeck has certain appeal, particularly when mum thinks it was all arranged just for her by yours truly." He winked at her. "Still, once the initial fun wore off, I realized that this breakthrough was more than a mere party trick."

"The Order could slip about undetected," Hermione said slowly, realizing that she honestly hadn't originally considered the practical uses. Ron was having even more of an influence on her than she'd feared.

Fred nodded. "We could go truly undercover in the Ministry without the typical worries of Polyjuice Potion. Not to mention the hundreds of other potions we could—"

"I didn't know you had such an affinity for potion-making," said Hermione, not bothering to hide her surprise. After all, it's not as if either of the twins had shown much of an interest in academics, especially in the company of those they were trying to amuse.

"Got _Outstanding_ on my OWLs," he said, a slight scowl coming across his face. "_Exceeds Expectations_ in Charms and Transfiguration. I may be a joker, Hermione, but I'm not stupid."

"Not once have I ever accused you of being stupid, Fred Weasley," she answered, putting her hands on her hips. "Irresponsible, maybe." He nodded at this. Hermione glared at him. "Careless, for certain. But never stupid."

"Then you'll help me?"

"Why on earth would you possibly need my help?"

Fred put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed a little. "Because you know things. And I know you won't take it lightly."

"But George—"

"Is my identical twin, not Siamese," said Fred, letting go of her shoulders. He rubbed his hands across his face in a gesture of frustration. "Look, when I told him we should think about developing more products for use in the war, he laughed at me, all right?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open. His own twin had actually laughed at him for something like that? No wonder Fred was frustrated.

"Oh, don't look so surprised," said Fred, actually smiling. "It's not like I'd given him much indication before then that I wanted to do something more with our talents. Don't get me wrong," he added at her look, "I'm not giving up the prankster lifestyle for good. Don't you worry. I just think it wouldn't hurt to put my astounding intellect to better use until we can put old You-Know-Who in the past tense where he belongs."

Despite the ridiculousness of the situation, Hermione found herself smiling a genuine smile. She'd always known both of the twins were good at heart, if a little – okay, a lot – on the frustrating side more often than not. But she had to admit to herself that she'd never really allowed herself to think about either one of them outside of his clown persona. They were no more one hundred percent pranksters than she was one hundred percent bookworm. Two weeks of having her face in various secluded locations with Ron more often than in a book was enough to prove that _she_ was more complex than that. And a hidden knack for potion making was beginning to tip the scales for Fred as well, at least in her mind.

"What did you have in mind?" Hermione asked.

His grin was so giddy that she would have sworn he'd just been told he'd won Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor contest. "Well, I know it's a tall order, but I—"

He was interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream coming from downstairs. Without hesitation, both of them ran out of the room and down the stairs faster than Draco Malfoy being chased by a rabid Hippogriff, wands at the ready. Hermione's first impression was that the living room had gotten much smaller than when she'd last been down there. In actuality, it was from the sheer number of people now crowded into the space.

Mrs. Weasley was beside herself, frantically running between that room and the kitchen carrying towels and bowls of water. Ginny was trying to help, but kept getting nearly trampled by the larger woman. Hermione could see several familiar faces – most of them members of the Order – crowded around the fireplace, but she couldn't tell what they were all looking at. She exchanged a look with Fred, but he looked just as confused as she did.

It was Ron who finally noticed them standing at the foot of the stairs. He rushed to Hermione's side. "It's Harry!" he said. "There's been an attack."

And that's when Kingsley Shacklebolt shifted just enough to his right that Hermione could see him: Harry Potter was crumpled on the floor, a bloody mess.

And he wasn't moving.

* * *

Author's Note:

Hope you liked this latest chapter. I'm a little ahead of my once a week schedule, but don't get too used to this, because I'm making no promises that I'll always update this quickly. I don't have near the head start with this one that we do with _The Secret Heir_.

I was inspired to change the name of this story last night from _Identity Crisis_ to _Essence of Love _due to a banner I was making (pity they can't be displayed on this site) and some additional story elements that came into the mix. The old name was just too flippant for such an intense story. Hope no one was too confused.

Please review. Thanks to everyone who already has. Until next week….


	4. Decisions

Chapter Four

Decisions

"Harry!" screamed Hermione, breaking away from Ron's grip only to be caught in another. Harry couldn't be hurt badly. He just _couldn't_ be. What would they do without him?

"He's alright," said Ginny, though her mouth was set in a firm line. She stepped a little farther away from the large group and lowered her voice. "The Order decided to go ahead and move him from the Dursleys after Luna and I talked to them. It's just…_he_ was waiting."

Hermione felt Ron come up behind her, and he wrapped his arms around her torso. She leaned back into his embrace, but her muscles still felt tensed, ready. His breath tickled her ear as he said, "So he's just knocked out?"

Ginny shook her head. "Petrificus Totalus. Fell off his broom. That's all I managed to find out. They've only just arrived."

Despite the matter-of-fact tone in the girl's voice, Hermione could tell she was still worried. Ginny kept looking over her shoulder every few seconds, probably hoping that Harry would not only wake up, but that he'd jump up and process his love for his ex all in the same breath. Harry could be noble all he wanted, but it was clear nothing was going to stop the girl's caring for him.

"It looks like just scratches and bruises," said a female voice Hermione didn't recognize. She must have been one of the newer members. "No sign of any curse damage."

"Thank Merlin," said Lupin. He bent over Harry and waved his wand, muttering a few words she couldn't quite hear. Immediately, Harry began to stir. He had been awake already, of course, so he simply had to get used to the movement of his limbs once again. Hermione knew from experience just how disorienting some of those jinxes could be.

"Take him up to bed this instant," said Mrs. Weasley, appearing so suddenly within commanding range that it was as if she had just apparated into the room. "He'll be needing something to help him sleep, I suspect."

She bustled back off to the kitchen. Hermione thought she looked much less flustered now that Harry was awake and the woman could take charge of him again. Hermione's own heart rate decreased exponentially, and she pulled away from Ron enough to turn and give him a quick smile. She said, "All right, Harry?"

"All right," said Harry, though his voice sounded as if he'd just recovered from laryngitis. He slowly stood, with Lupin's help, and he moved through the crowd of Order members. If it weren't for his blood-streaked face, Hermione could have believed her friend was simply almost embarrassed to death. She knew he wasn't fond of this kind of attention.

Ginny immediately stepped forward to Harry's side. She gave her former professor a look of determination. "I'll get him upstairs. Mum's going to want a meeting, you know."

Hermione knew the bitterness in her friend's voice was due to the fact that the girl was the only one in the house yet unable to join Order other than Harry, and Harry was mixed up in the thick of it whether he joined the group or not. Ginny didn't seem to be a bit mollified by the fact that her school age companions, while mostly of age, were only allowed to become _initiate_ members. It didn't gain them much more knowledge than they were able to overhear on the Extendable Ears anyway, but to Ginny's constant irritation, they were at least _in_.

"Everyone into the kitchen," said Mrs. Weasley as if on cue. "I've got the kettle on. Here, Ginny dear." She handed her daughter a small vial and gave her a significant look. Ginny flushed, but her frown did not fade.

The adults had started to file into the kitchen, but Ron, Hermione and the twins hung back a little, watching. It was amazing, really, the effect the last few months had had on the Order. They had lost their leader and their most valuable informant, but membership had almost doubled. Hermione found herself considering that – they had grown in number, but had they grown in effectiveness? Perhaps Fred was right. It seemed the Order could use every edge it could get.

"They were there, and they still couldn't keep him from getting hurt," she said quietly, glancing at Fred. He met her eyes, but didn't say anything.

"Take it easy, Hermione," said George with a grin. "Our boy's still got all his body parts."

"You know what I mean," she said, stepping away from Ron to face them all. "For all our planning, Voldemort is always one step ahead of us."

Ron winced, but then said, "We're doing what we can, Hermione." He kissed her on the cheek, but when he pulled away she recognized the gesture was more for the look he was giving her. The look that said "Horcruxes."

Hermione felt herself relax a little bit. Ron was right, for once. What did the Order's work mean at all if they didn't find and destroy all the bits of Voldemort's soul? The effectiveness of the group's hard work was completely dependent on her and Ron and—

"Harry is being a pain in the arse," said Ginny in a carefully controlled voice as she stomped down the stairs.

"Aw, no kisses for little Gin-Gin?" said Fred in a sickly sweet voice. Both girls turned to glare at him, but Hermione had to hold back a giggle at the puzzled expression on his face. It was almost as if Fred was surprised at himself for the comment. He mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like "sorry."

Ginny turned her scathing look on Hermione and held out the sleeping potion. "He absolutely refuses to take it until he's had a chance to talk to the two of you. Alone." She emphasized the last word as if it were Harry breaking up with her all over again.

"Ginny, I'm sure he didn't…" started Hermione, but she couldn't continue. She knew there was nothing she could say to comfort the girl, because she knew Harry wouldn't confide in Ginny. That rift would be there no matter how much they chose to ignore it.

"I guess we better get up there," said Ron. He shrugged and grabbed Hermione's hand in a way she supposed he meant to come off casually. From the way Ginny scowled – well, scowled _more_, anyway – however, Hermione could tell the others knew Ron as well as she did. They could read the pride in his voice when he added, "If talking to us is the only way he'll take his potion."

"Right," Hermione heard George saying as she and Ron ascended the stairs. "Let's go see if Remus saved us those werewolf hairs we requested." Then he added, as if in an afterthought, "Oh yeah, and what old You-Know-Who's up to, I suppose."

Harry was sitting up in his bed when they entered the room. Either Ginny had cleaned him up or he'd done it himself, but either way there were scratches on his face but no more blood. His eyes lit up eagerly as soon as his two friends had opened the door, but it was undoubtedly rooted in anxiety rather than excitement. Hermione had seen that expression before, and it never led to a relaxing evening by the fire.

"They give you the details, then?" asked Harry.

"We haven't been to the meeting yet," said Hermione, sitting on the bed next to him. Ron pulled his desk chair over by them and sat. "Ginny came back down pretty quick."

"She's in a right fit, mate," said Ron.

"Voldemort nearly took out half the Order tonight," said Harry darkly. "Ginny's the last worry on my mind."

Hermione looked at Ron, but he seemed just as surprised as she felt. Cautiously, she said, "She didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Harry asked. He evidently didn't like the look he saw on Hermione's face, because he added, "Don't dance around it, Hermione. It's bad, isn't it? Has someone died?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She really wasn't sure how Harry would take this news. For all his noble bravery and attempts to focus on the important mission ahead of them, she had no doubt that he still loved Ginny. That as soon as this fight was over, he would make it up to the witch, assuming Ginny waited for him. "There were Death Eaters following Ginny and Luna on holiday. That's why the Order decided to pull you from the Dursleys early."

To his credit, Harry didn't immediately go raging about the room or even rush downstairs to Ginny's side. In fact, Hermione thought he was eerily quiet about the whole thing. Even Ron seemed to be unnerved by their friend's lack of response, because he fidgeted in his chair, leaning back in it to the point that Hermione was afraid he was going to topple over backwards.

"They were looking for me," said Harry quietly, his brow furrowed. "They know I'm up to something. Or think that I will be soon."

"Naturally, mate," said Ron, letting the chair fall to the floor with a loud bang.

He said something else after that, but Hermione had stopped listening the moment she sensed an inane joke was to follow. But it wasn't just Ron's sense of humour that had turned her mind from the conversation. It was simply really beginning to hit her, the predicament in which they had found themselves. They had been planning to leave in the next few weeks to begin hunting Horcruxes; they hadn't planned on Voldemort's minions already being on the watch for them.

This mission was built around the assumptions that Dumbledore had already laid out for them. The Horcruxes were made from objects of significance and placed in significant locations. Hermione and Ron had been researching the logistics of making and destroying a Horcrux, but Harry had dedicated his reading to the objects Voldemort might have chosen and where he might have hidden them. If the evil wizard caught on to what they were doing…well, he might decide that random hidden locations were much more practical than meaningful ones. They already had virtually no information – to lose the tiny advantage they had could mean a devastating loss for their side. And Hermione couldn't allow that to happen.

"We have to go back to Hogwarts," she said.

"What?" the two boys said in near unison, breaking from whatever they had been discussing as she processed her thoughts. She thought Harry might have been giving details of that evening's attack, but she wasn't sure.

"It's going to be our only chance of hiding our plans," Hermione said. She did her best to pump false confidence into her voice despite the queasy feeling that had once again risen in her stomach. "It seemed to work last year, being at school. It doesn't seem like Voldemort has figured out what you're doing yet, otherwise he wouldn't need people following Ginny."

"Even if the school does open back up," said Harry, "there's no way McGonagall would allow it. We'd be stuck there."

She had to admit she'd forgotten there was a possibility that the school wouldn't open for the new term. Normally, she would have been hyper-conscious of that sort of issue, but they hadn't been intending to return anyway. It had sort of slipped off her radar. "We can sneak out. It wouldn't be the first time."

"That would be fine if we could be sure we'd be back before we were missed the next morning, but we don't have any idea how long we'll need to be gone."

"I know it's not a perfect plan, Harry," she said. "But it's all I've got right now."

"Are you sure this isn't just a subconscious ploy to simultaneously defeat a dark wizard _and_ take your N.E.W.T.s on time?" asked Ron with a raised eyebrow.

"If you knew me even half as well as you think you do, you wouldn't ask that question," snapped Hermione. If she had been Crookshanks, all the hair on her back would have been raised in agitation. She probably would have also taken a bite out of Ron's ankle, but she managed to restrain herself. "Why on earth would I care about N.E.W.T.s at a time like this? We don't know if we'll even be alive that long!"

Even Harry looked surprised at her voicing exactly what they all knew was possible. They were going into this fight willingly, and they were accepting the risks. The remaining question was – which of those risks were necessary, and which ones could they avoid with careful planning?

"Wouldn't be the first time you thought about studying in the face of danger," mumbled Ron, but Hermione could tell he was feeling guilty for the comment already. She relaxed a little and nudged his knee with her toe. When he met her eyes, she offered him a tiny smile of apology, which he returned. She supposed his lapses in tact were simply one of the idiotic things she loved about him.

"I think for now we should continue as if nothing had changed," said Harry, who seemed to be pretending he wasn't noticing the mushy looks passing between his two best friends. "We'll monitor Death Eater activity as best we can through the Order, see if maybe it was coincidental."

Hermione didn't think Harry thought any of it was coincidence at all, but she couldn't deny that he was right. Going back to school would complicate things. Almost too much. But she was also almost positive that they wouldn't be able to carry on exactly as they'd planned either. Too much was riding on their search for the Horcruxes. There had to be a compromise in it somewhere.

By the time Hermione finally convinced Harry to take his potion so that she and Ron could get back downstairs, the Order meeting had already broken up. Lupin and Kingsley were still talking to Mrs. Weasley – apparently about her fabulous beef and mushroom stew rather than anything of actual importance – but everyone else seemed to have cleared out. Ginny had her face stuck determinedly into a book, though Hermione could tell her friend wasn't really reading.

"Harry asleep, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked as the adults came out of the kitchen. Her two companions nodded to everyone before disapparating.

"Yeah, mum," answered Ron. He winked at Hermione before adding, "Looked a bit peaky, though."

"Yes, of course he does," his mother answered. "He's had quite a fright today. I'll make sure we have enough eggs so I can make him a good breakfast in the morning." She started back into the kitchen, her back to Ron's satisfied smile.

"Mrs. Weasley?" said Hermione. "Have Fred and George gone?"

"Oh, yes dear," the woman answered, looking back over her shoulder from the doorway. "It's quite late." Then she disappeared into the other room.

"What do you want them for?" asked Ron, giving her a strange look. "I'm just glad to be rid of them for a few hours. Those gits haven't left us alone for ten solid minutes."

"Oh, nothing really," lied Hermione. She felt a momentary stab of conscience, but put it down to wanting neither to worry him nor get his hopes up. Or to make him think she was crazy for wanting to work with Fred.

"Good," he said, and he pulled on her hand until she was standing right in front of him, then bent down and kissed her softly. "Why don't we take advantage of the freedom? I think mum will be busy for a while. Harry looked like he could use a _really_ good breakfast." With the last part he gave her his best "seriously concerned" face.

Hermione giggled a little and nodded. If nothing else, a little healthy snogging would get her mind off of their current predicament. Later, when she was lying awake in her bed until the wee hours of the morning, she would think about it some more. Maybe she'd even see a better solution. But for now, she realized she wanted nothing more than to lose her mind in a dark corner somewhere with Ron. She pulled him toward the stairs.

Mrs. Weasley wouldn't think to check the twins' old room for at least half an hour….


	5. School Preparations

Chapter Five

School Preparations

It just so happened that the day they had their first breakthrough in Horcrux research was also the day they received their Hogwarts letters. Hermione couldn't explain it to herself, but the letters were more of a comfort to her. She supposed they were simply a known entity, whereas the discovery that Sirius's brother, Regulus, had the initials R.A.B. (and had been a Death Eater) was proof of how tough the search was really going to be. Harry and Sirius had been close, the trio was pretty sure they might have held the locket in their hands the summer before fifth year, and yet it had taken this long for them to see what was right in front of them. How much longer would it take them to find the rest?

But Hogwarts? That was something Hermione could take in. There was a schedule to follow, N.E.W.T.s to study for, younger students to mentor. And she just couldn't shake the feeling that it might be the only place where they could continue their mission while keeping up the appearance of a normal life. That it might be just the distraction they needed. But she couldn't say that to Ron and Harry. She'd voiced her concerns once and then dropped them. Now that she'd made Head Girl…well, saying anything would really make it seem like her priorities were in the wrong place, and the last thing she wanted at this stage in the game was Harry thinking she wasn't behind him one hundred percent.

They still hadn't told Ron's parents of their plans to not return to school. Ron didn't want to give his mum enough time to come up with a convincing argument against them. That's how Hermione found herself planning a trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies on the hottest, most miserable summer day so far. Mrs. Weasley hadn't wanted her to go, of course, but Hermione was neither the woman's child nor underage. Ron and Ginny were expressly forbidden, but Harry didn't even ask; he knew it wasn't safe for him to be seen in public.

Fred was waiting for her when she apparated into the Leaky Cauldron. She'd gotten used to seeing his face by now. Well, double that face, naturally, since he had an identical twin. The two of them had been hanging around the Burrow for such a large portion of the summer now that any day where both of them were actually _working_ made the house feel strangely empty.

She never thought there would come a day when the twins' pranks would brighten her day, but that was before she had spent an entire summer cooped up in some bedroom or another surrounded by books full of useless information. No, not useless…just not relevant. When even _she_ was tired of reading, well, something was amiss. Fred and George had lovingly begun to refer to whichever bedroom the trio was using as "the dungeon" because of the tortured expression they claimed she wore upon exiting.

"What, no George?" Hermione said with a smile. "And here I thought I was in danger. Who will protect me now?"

Her bodyguard clasped his hands to his chest. "Oh, her words burn my very soul," he said, loud and dramatic. "I don't know how I'll be able to go on. I may as well and lay down here and tear my heart from my chest…."

No one in the establishment seemed to notice the pronounced "pop" next the two.

"Blimey, Harry," Fred whispered. "I thought I was going to have to go on for hours."

"I said distraction," hissed Hermione, unable to keep away the grin that tugged at her mouth, "not theatrical melodrama."

"Sorry," said Harry's quiet voice from the air in front of them. "I had to make sure Mrs. Weasley saw me go back upstairs. Took me five minutes to convince her I didn't need another helping of eggs."

"Right," said Hermione at a normal volume. They headed outside toward the entrance into the wizarding shopping district. The sun beat down oppressively on them, but she didn't mind so much. School shopping had always been fun for her, a fact that never ceased to amaze Ron, despite all their years as friends. And what was a little heat with that to look forward to? "We'll probably stop by the shop to see George in about an hour, don't you think?"

Fred tapped his wand to the appropriate bricks without even looking at them. "So long as I can drag you out of Flourish and Blotts in time. He's expecting us, though."

Hermione shot a glare at him, but inwardly she was smiling as they walked into Diagon Alley. So far, so good. Harry would meet them at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes after a carefully arranged meeting with his Gringott's vault. Or rather, the vault he'd set up to hold the contents of Grimmauld Place when he'd had it cleaned out. If Remus Lupin's oversight of the project was as thorough as they thought likely, then the locket should be there. If it wasn't, then it might very well be lost to them forever.

Her job in this whole thing was twofold. She was going to go shopping for supplies, both for school and otherwise. But she was also to make sure to be seen by every witch or wizard who was likely to recognize her. And the more likely they were to gossip, the better. Even if they didn't end up going back to school, at least they could make the world _think_ they were for a bit longer.

They walked in silence for another thirty seconds or so before Fred finally said, "Merlin, I never thought I'd get you alone."

Hermione looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" he said with a shrug. "You think I could get ten words into a conversation about potions in front of Ron before he turned the talk to 'why in the world is Fred trying to sound smart'? As if he's some sort of bloody genius."

"Ron is extremely intelligent," she answered snappishly. "Just because he doesn't always apply himself—"

"Whoa, down overprotective girlfriend!" Fred said with a laugh. There was something about his face when he laughed, she noticed, that made the rest of his body come alive. As if he didn't have proper control of his limbs unless he was in good humours. She liked getting to see his more serious side these days, but this was the Fred she really recognized from all the years she'd known his family, not the other. "But you know he wouldn't be interested."

"No, he wouldn't," she admitted. It almost felt wrong to voice the thought, as if she was saying Ron was not mature enough to handle the type of project she and Fred had been discussing. But she supposed the truth couldn't really ever be a betrayal. The things she loved about Ron had nothing to do with his scholarly interests (or lack thereof).

They stopped at all of the usual shops and Hermione collected all the items she knew she'd need for a school year, plus a few extra just in case. She was tempted to buy everything in triplicate, but practicality stopped her. One set of unused supplies was a waste, but it was nothing in comparison to three. If they returned to school, Harry and Ron could simply have theirs delivered. But she was glad she had come. It felt good to stand there and peruse the items, pick them out herself. After all, it would be the last time she had the privilege as a student.

Fred was good company. She imagined what it would be like with Ron there instead; how they'd hold hands and sneak smiles over the textbooks they were buying. How he would tease her for once again pulling out that first edition copy of _The Theory Behind and Usage of Metamagic_ that she was never actually going to buy because it cost practically a year's salary. The image made her smile, but she had to admit that the Fred's uncomplicated presence was definitely welcomer at that moment.

She was even gladder for her boyfriend's absence when, after their third store of the morning, she noticed that someone was following them. She wanted to chalk it up to nerves. The man hadn't been there a few minutes ago, had he? She started to give Fred some sort of hand signal, the subtlety of which she knew would have been lost on Ron, but within a second she was suddenly slammed into a dark corner. Her back was against the wall of the neighbouring shop, but most shockingly, Fred's body was pressed tightly against hers.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, yell at him to get off of her, to quit playing around when they could be in danger, but he shook his head in one sharp movement. She didn't dare move or make a sound. The familiar laughing face had transformed back to Serious Fred, only now there was something new there, and it made her heart pound even harder:

Fred was afraid.

She felt every movement of his chest as he drew in slow, deliberate breaths. Watched his eyes, trained on the street only a few feet from them, but flicking back to her every few seconds, as if making sure she was still there. Each of his hands was wrapped around one of her upper arms, pinning her to the wall, but he wasn't handling her too roughly. On the contrary, his hands were trembling. It seemed to be all he could manage to simply hold her still there.

She was surprised at how short he was. Taller than her, certainly, but her eyes were directly even with his mouth, whereas she would have been staring at Ron's chest. The thought of Ron made her suddenly painfully aware of how close she and Fred were standing. If this had been the Burrow's coat cupboard, she could almost imagine….

He licked his lips and let out a slow breath. "We're being followed."

"I thought so, too," she whispered. "How can you be sure?"

Fred leaned in even closer to her, his lips practically touching her ear. Hermione tried to focus her attention on the stone wall opposite her, tried to stay calm, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to take anything but the shakiest of breaths. What was wrong with her? She'd duelled Death Eaters and now suddenly the idea of them following her was this paralysing?

"He hasn't passed by. He lost sight of us and is waiting for us to reappear." His breath tickled.

"What's the plan?"

"Shopping is over," he said. "We need to get to the shop."

"I agree," she said.

Fred took a small step backwards, but instead of releasing her like she expected, he pulled her body with his. She only had enough time to glance to her right as they came back into the line of sight of the road. Her eyes briefly met with those of their very surprised pursuer, before she felt the familiar sensation of being pulled through a very long tube. Then they were in the back room of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

They stepped apart like magnets suddenly turned to their polar opposite sides.

"You all right?" Fred asked, but he didn't look at her. She recognized the Weasley blush when she saw it, even if he was half turned away. Was he embarrassed because he'd been frightened at the prospect of them being followed? Because she certainly couldn't blame him for that.

"All right," Hermione replied. "He wasn't much of a match for our running away skills, was he?"

He laughed. It was shaky, but a laugh all the same. "Remind me to show you my moves later. Might come in handy."

"Are you sure we didn't overreact back there?" she asked. "What if he was just a reporter or other fan of Harry's, trying to get a story or an autograph through us?"

"He had his wand out, Hermione," Fred said seriously. "He wasn't obvious about it, but it was there."

Hermione's thoughts swirled, her stomach lurching uncomfortably. It didn't make her feel any better knowing she'd been right about Ginny's incident being no accident, and being right almost _always_ made her feel better. The question was, did Voldemort already know what Harry was up to, or was he just being cautious?

"Here, sit. Harry should be back any moment now," said Fred. He pulled a galleon-sized item off a nearby workbench and tossed it onto the floor. It immediately sprung open and transformed into a cushy armchair. Hermione jumped back in surprise, but recovered immediately when she realized what it was. She ran her hand over the smooth, green velvet. "George's latest bit of handiwork," he explained.

She looked up at him. "Does that mean it's going to try and swallow me?"

Fred laughed. It wasn't quite up to par for him, but it was enough to calm her aching insides for the moment. "No, it's just a regular old chair. I promise. George isn't _all_ prankster either, you know."

"Fred, this is the back room of a joke shop. What do you expect me to think?"

He shrugged, then tossed another chair capsule on the floor so that he could sit as well. "Those originated from here, and you seemed pretty impressed with them."

Hermione looked at the workbench where he pointed and noticed a familiar set of bottles arranged there. The Morph Potion collection seemed to have grown in the month or so since she'd first seen it. "I never said I wasn't impressed with these," she said, patting the arm of the chair. "Even if it _had _been intended to swallow me."

"What does this mean?" Fred asked after another moment of thoughtful silence.

"I don't know," she said, sighing. "If only there were some way—"

"What?" he said, when she didn't continue.

Hermione stood up, staring into space. "Surely it can't be that simple…."

Fred stood and came over to her, placed a hand on each of her shoulders, forced her to look at him. After their earlier position, this contact didn't even faze her. "What is it?"

Hermione broke away from him and walked over toward the area where they'd stored the Morph Potion. She picked up one of the small vials from the workbench and turned to back Fred. "How long does it take you to brew this up?"

"Not long. A couple of days. Why?"

She did some calculations in her head. Yes, that should give them enough time. "I need you."

Fred stared at her for a moment unblinking. It took her a few seconds to realize how her words had sounded. "Your help," she amended. "_We _need your help."

She watched his face, their eyes locked together. He seemed to be sizing her up, as if he wasn't sure how to take even those words. "Anything," he said finally, voice almost a whisper. "I'll do anything you need."

Fred's eyes held hers. In that moment, Hermione didn't doubt his words a bit. She let out the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding, took a step toward him. He matched her move. She opened her mouth to speak again, but a rustling noise closer to the front of the storeroom stopped her.

Harry appeared from under the invisibility cloak and asked, "Why do we need Fred's help?"

* * *

Author's Note: 

Special thanks to my "constant reader" (read Stephen King's _On Writing_, if you haven't already) for helping me drag my ass through this chapter. It really didn't want to be written, I swear. But I caught the plot bunnies and got them all safely back in their cages. And I do agree with her...it was worth every moment of agonizing moment of teeth-pulling writing to finally get some Fred love into the story! ;)

So far so good on my enormous load of stories to keep updated (another one probably on its way next week or the week after). Keep your fingers crossed and watch for alerts!


	6. Out of Body

Chapter Six

Out of Body

To the casual observer, the scene at King's Cross Station looked like the average jaunt back to school, albeit less attended than in previous years. No one could see the difficulties the group had had getting there, which included at least a dozen Aurors under Disillusionment Charms, nor sense the tension that several of its members felt. No, to the average witch or wizard, the Weasley family looked just like any other large family might.

"Oh, seventh year, Ron. I can't believe it," gushed Mrs. Weasley, tears in her eyes. "And you dating the Head Girl and everything…."

"Mum," said Ron, scowling. "Dating the Head is not the same as being one."

"What's so great about being a Head anyway?" asked Fred, an irritable look on his face.

"That's enough out of you," said Mrs. Weasley, pointing at him accusingly. "_You_ didn't even finish seventh year."

"Neither will he," mumbled Ron under his breath.

"What?" Mrs. Weasley and Fred snapped simultaneously.

"I was just wondering why he is even here," he said aloud, jabbing a challenging finger back at Fred.

"Enough!" shouted Hermione. She was beginning to doubt whether their plan would work at all, if they couldn't even manage to hold it together here. "Fred, can I speak with you a moment?" she asked, levelling an icy stare at him.

"If anyone can talk some sense into him, Mum, she can," Hermione heard Ron's voice say as she dragged Fred across the station. There was an empty sitting room off to the side of the platform, and she pulled him inside and closed the door.

Almost immediately, Fred's lips were on hers. The kiss was all pressure and no caress; greedy and possessive. It felt wrong, because it was so unlike Fred that she couldn't force her mind to reconcile to what was happening. If anyone saw them, they would see Hermione sharing a very unwilling intimate moment with her boyfriend's brother. But while she could see that as well, she knew better, and so did her brain. The person standing in front of her looked like Fred, but he most certainly wasn't.

Hermione pushed him away. "Ron, what are you _thinking_?"

"What?" he said, and he leaned into the kiss again.

"Someone will see," she hissed, pulling away immediately.

"No one will see," said Ron. "There's hardly anyone here anyway."

The fact that it came out in Fred's voice didn't help her perception any. She'd been determined to keep resolutely focused on her friends in their new guises, which also included George and Harry switching places. She hoped that her pretending the four were who they _appeared_ to be would help them keep up the ruse without anyone noticing, particularly Mrs. Weasley or Ginny. Judging by how the morning had gone so far, however, it was evident that acting was not one of Ron's strong points.

"You don't know that, Ron," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "If someone saw, it could ruin the whole plan."

"I'm not so sure I like the plan."

Hermione glared at him. "We agreed this was the best way. If it—" She looked around one last time, making absolutely sure the room was indeed empty. "If it distracts Voldemort from what you and Harry are doing, it will be worth it."

Ron reached up and brushed a piece of hair out of her face. His gaze was focused on her lips, then slowly drifted back up to look her in the eye. "But what about us?"

"You have a practically impossible search for bits of a dark wizard's soul ahead of you, and that's what you're worried about?" she asked, chuckling. At his slightly hurt expression, she added, "If we are meant to be, it won't matter if we're together or not, right?"

"But the thought of you there, all alone…." He reached for her hand. Hermione was again struck by the oddness of it. Fred's hands were softer, smoother than the real Ron's. She supposed it was because Fred hadn't played Quidditch for a couple of years now, other than the occasional pick-up game at the Burrow.

"I won't be alone. I'll have Fred and George. I should be the one who's worried."

"I'll be alright," he said with a soft smile. "But I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," she said.

Ron leaned in and kissed her, and this time Hermione closed her eyes and let him. The sheer force of his lips had lessened, but as he wrapped his hand behind her head and pulled her closer, it still felt like he was trying to lay claim to her. She let him take this one last moment, though, knowing he spoke truthfully when he said he'd miss her. She didn't want his last memory of this day to be her pulling away, as it might be awhile before she saw him again.

"We should get back," Hermione said, when he finally pulled away for a breath. She kept her eyes closed until she had turned around, and then she walked out the door. Seeing Fred when she knew it was Ron was simply far too strange.

Mrs. Weasley rushed them onto the train with only a few chastising words for the false Fred for keeping the Head Girl too long. Hermione managed to sneak one last smile at her two best friends, and was proud of herself for only tearing up a little. Merlin, was she really doing the right thing? She'd always told Harry she would be by his side through this whole thing. Was she going back on her word now? Deep down, she knew that this was the right way, but she still felt like a traitor. She knew if something happened to either one of them, she'd probably never forgive herself for not being there.

Almost immediately, Hermione left the others behind for the blissful simplicity of her duties as Head Girl. She got the new prefects acquainted with the process in record time, and then was able to get back to their compartment long before the tea trolley was supposed to come around. When she walked in, it was empty except for Fred and George whispering conspiratorially.

"Don't make me have to start taking house points before we even get to school," she said, but she smiled all the same. If she had to do this without Harry and Ron, she was at least glad to have someone familiar in on the secret.

"You wouldn't take points from me," said Fred, flashing her his best grin. "You think I'm entirely too cute. I'm so snoggable that I can make Hermione Granger nearly miss the train to _school_. Where the studying happens."

Hermione couldn't do anything but glare as she sat down across from them, but she was sure her cheeks were red. What could she say to that? Fred and George both knew what was happening when she'd pulled her boyfriend off for a chat at the station. Well, they would assume it had been nothing but a last minute snogging session, and they would have been half right. Still, she thought it would have been difficult to be any more embarrassed.

"So how _did_ it feel to kiss Fred?" said George, matching his twin's grin. How he managed to do it when they looked anything but alike at the moment was beyond her.

And by that statement, George proved that she could, indeed, feel more embarrassed than she had only seconds earlier. She'd been kissing _Ron_, but all the actual physical aspects of it…. "I closed my eyes," she said.

George elbowed his brother. "You must be a pretty good snog, then."

"Oh, I don't know why I bother with you two," said Hermione huffily, trying to think about anything but the mixed up mess that had been her last moments with her boyfriend. She allowed herself one glance up at Fred, but his grin had faded, and he didn't meet her eyes. _Good, serves him right to be embarrassed, too_, she thought.

The compartment door slid open again, and Ginny, Neville and Luna piled into the area with them.

"—And Pansy's hair! I don't think I've ever seen anything so hideous in my life," Ginny was saying. Her companions laughed and sat down, Luna next to the fake Ron, and Ginny and Neville on either side of Hermione.

Neville jumped up almost immediately, as if he'd been bitten. Hermione wondered briefly if he had some new species of Stinging Violet seeds in his pocket that he'd forgotten. "Merlin, Ron, I'm sorry," he said. "Ginny told us you and Hermione were together now. I didn't even think to leave this seat for you."

"I think 'disgustingly together' is the way I put it," said Ginny in a matter-of-fact tone. She glared at them suspiciously. "But now you're not sitting together. And then there's the fact that you three are going back to school at all. From the way you were talking…. Quick, Hermione! I think someone's changed bodies with Ron!"

Hermione looked at Fred – who, to Ginny, was Ron – with wide eyes. Did she know something? Had their plan gone so wrong already? He seemed unsure what to do for a moment, but then he switched into Neville's vacated seat.

"Merlin, Hermione. Don't be so jumpy," said Ginny with a sharp laugh. "And please don't go all lovey-dovey for my benefit. I've seen plenty enough this summer to make me vomit. I'm sure Harry would agree."

George nodded vigorously, but did not speak. It was probably for the best, as Ginny's stare seemed to be daring him to contradict her. This was the most the witch had spoken to them in the last month, so Hermione wasn't surprised to still hear the bitterness there, couched in the humour. It made her feel even guiltier for hiding the truth from her friend, but she still thought Harry had been right. Having Ginny worried when there was nothing she could do to help….

Because that's what Hermione was doing, she knew, despite any guilt she felt. Not only was she the Sticking Charm that would keep their clever distraction from falling apart, but from school she had access to the library, the teachers, not to mention other sources of information through connections the twins swore they could make if necessary; and the twins were nothing if not suitably _quiet_ in their business dealings. She would be more equipped for research than ever. After all, that was where her strengths lay, wasn't it?

She looked over at Fred and smiled. Somehow it wasn't as disconcerting, knowing the difference between the body and the mind, when the body wasn't trying to shove its tongue down her throat. And as she sat listening to Ginny continue her tirade about the current state of Slytherin, Hermione started to think of both Fred and Ron, and how their strengths would aid this mission.

Ron was a terrible actor, to be sure, but she'd seen the charts he'd begun to lay out for his and Harry's search, and his approach was beyond brilliant. He could see connections between objects and places that she was disappointed in herself for missing once he explained them. He hated the reading, the sorting through pages of junk to reach that one perfect piece of information – in other words, all the things on which she thrived – but once those bits were in front of him, he was amazing.

Fred's approach was also different. While she was a researcher and Ron was a planner, Fred was a _doer_. She'd watched him brew the Morph Potion – whose name had stuck now, much to the twins' dismay – carefully mixing each ingredient, sometimes sniffing or even tasting one first, to be sure it was just right. He'd even shared the secret additive with her (after much playful threatening on her part): a person's aura, drawn carefully from a recent photograph – the more recent, the more accurate the copy – resulted in just the right balance when immediately added to the two day old liquid mixture. He also insisted on testing each batch of potion and the fresh antidote pills on himself before he'd let anyone else touch them.

They made it to School and into the feast without incident. The Sorting Hat didn't jump up and scream, "IMPOSTERS!" Professor McGonagall looked too pleased to see them to have noticed any of the various odd inconsistencies that Hermione could see. Seamus Finnegan didn't pay any attention to Ron grabbing first at the Yorkshire pudding, when she knew he always saved that for last. Dean Thomas was unfazed when he had to remind Harry he had a girlfriend, despite Harry previously being ecstatic to learn his roommate would no longer be on the market and looking at Ginny.

It wasn't until midway through the meal that Hermione began to think maybe their plan wasn't going to work after all. Fred was either doing a really good impersonation of Ron trying to talk with his mouth full, or his was simply living up to some genetic predisposition to never be able to take small bites. George leaned over to her and whispered, "If my sister gives me that longing stare one more time, I think I'm going to be too sick for pudding."

Hermione started to reply when the doors of the Great Hall banged open with such force that it reverberated through the entire room. The already half-empty house tables went deathly silent. She craned her head around Fred to see what everyone was starting at.

Draco Malfoy sauntered into the hall. There was no smile, nor even his characteristic smirk, but there was a swagger to his step that let every person he passed know that he thought he was better than they were. He sat down in the middle of a big section of empty seats at the Slytherin table, and then began eating as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

What was he doing here? Hermione glanced up at the teachers' table, and while there were a few looks of shock that were attempting to be disguised, Professor McGonagall looked less shocked to see Malfoy than she had to see Hermione herself. She couldn't believe the new headmistress had _known_ he was coming back, much less understand why the older witch had allowed it in the first place.

"I can't believe the git is actually showing his face," whispered Seamus, when the noise level of the hall had returned to its normal quiet buzz. "I thought for sure he'd hole up in his mansion and just wait for everyone to forget he'd been on trial for attempted murder. Not to mention being a Death Eater."

"He—he was cleared?" stammer Hermione incredulously.

"Don't you read the Prophet?" said Colin Creevey from Ginny's right.

She realized that she had, indeed, fallen behind in her reading of the trash newspaper, partially in disgust of its falsified headlines and partially out of necessity: she hadn't exactly had time to read anything that wasn't related to the Horcrux quest now, had she? Still, she felt guilt begin to wash over her again. Where were her priorities lately? She glanced to her right. Fred was still stuffing his face, but he paused long enough to flash her a grin. Ron's grin. She sighed.

Then she noticed that George was busy doing similar, calmly shovelling food into his mouth as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Ginny was staring at him as well, her brow furrowed. Thinking quickly, Hermione said, "Harry, if you're worried about our reactions, we won't be mad if you aren't in the mood to eat anymore."

George gave her a confused look, one cheek full of food paused in mid-chew. She almost burst out laughing at the sight of it. "I'm not hungry anymore?" he said, more question than statement.

"Come on, then," Hermione said with a sigh, standing up. She looked at Fred. "You coming, Ron?"

He looked confused as well, but followed without hesitation. Several heads turned to watch them as they walked out of the Great Hall. Hermione glanced behind her and locked eyes with Professor McGonagall, but the headmistress did not stop them leaving. Her mouth was a thin line, the rest of her face completely impassive, but there was something in the woman's look that told Hermione she understood, and that she didn't like it either.

* * *

Author's Note: 

This week's chapter is a day early – woot!

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and/or added me to their alert list. I really like hearing your thoughts, and I'm still replying to each one.


	7. Side Effects

Chapter Seven

Side Effects

The common room was practically deserted the evening after their first day of classes. Hermione sat alone on a couch with her Arithmancy book open in front of her. She was trying to study, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Harry and Ron. The night before, George had snuck down to Hogsmeade and apparated to the twins' flat, but her two friends had already gone. Now she didn't know where they were or what they were doing. She felt sick to her stomach.

She had flipped her book closed, determined to at least get her rounds done early and get a good night's sleep if not get ahead in her classes, when the portrait swung open. George and Demelza Robins came in supporting Fred between them. The twins had decided a little pre-emptive Quidditch practice was definitely in order, as Harry was team captain, but George was a terrible seeker. Hermione suspected they were also trying to avoid studying with her, which would have been the only other logical place people would expect to see Harry and Ron.

"What's happened?" said Hermione, immediately jumping up. Fred smiled at her weakly and moved his mouth as if speaking, but no sound came out.

"He just fell off his broom," said Demelza. "Good thing we weren't far off the ground. I wanted to take him to Madame Pomfrey, but Harry said there was no need."

Hermione gave George a questioning look, but before she could ask, he said, "Don't you remember that prototype Fred and George gave me last week? I think that should do the trick."

"Um, yeah, I'd forgotten," said Hermione, still having no idea what George was on about. At his look, she turned to Demelza and said, "Thanks for your help. I'll get him all straightened out."

The witch shrugged and relinquished her support of Fred's weight, causing George to buckle a little under it. "Night, then. Practice again on Saturday, Harry?"

George nodded to his team member as she trotted up the stairs, leaving the three alone in the common room. As soon as she was out of earshot, Hermione rushed up to help with Fred. He had been watching the exchange lazily, but now his eyes were drifting closed. She gently looped an arm around his back.

"What's going on, George?" she hissed in a loud whisper.

"It's the Morph Potion," he answered, matching her volume. "Or, at least, I think that's what it is. Must be a side effect from the prolonged influence of the Falanxius Root. Might have something to do with—"

"George! The important thing is how do we fix it? If we take him to Madame Pomfrey…."

"I know," said George. "It's okay. I'm pretty sure all we have to do is let him go a few hours off of the potion, and he should be fine. At least, I'm okay today, and I was off the stuff for a while last night."

Hermione let out a relieved breath. "But where can we go? We can't let anyone see you two."

"You're Head Girl, Hermione," said George with a chuckle. "Not to mention best friend of Harry Potter, who rivals the great Weasley twins in cleverness of sneaking about the school." He puffed himself up in pride, getting a giggle out of Hermione. "I think you can fine somewhere."

When he started up toward the boys' dormitories, leaving her with the crushing weight of "Ron" around her shoulders, she scowled. "What about you? You'll need a break too, won't you?"

"I've got to make sure Verity hasn't let the young cretins destroy the shop. I'll do it there," George said with a little wave. He winked and said, "You two lovebirds have fun."

More than once on the way to the Room of Requirement—because she _did_ know the perfect place, after all—she cursed George for leaving her alone to deal with Fred, and also herself for coming up with this ridiculous plan in the first place. Had she really thought this would be a good idea? The brilliant decoy that would save Harry's mission? Now the Morph Potion had some sort of weird side effect they hadn't planned for, she and Fred hadn't even started brainstorming for their project (and who was to say there was a point, anyway?), and now she was pacing back and forth in front of the proper spot and unable to focus her mind on her needs. What _did_ she need right now?

To her surprise, the room actually appeared, despite her lack of coherent thought on the subject. What she found inside left her mouth gaping open. There was a long, low couch at one end of the room, flanked by two armchairs and some end tables. All around this cluster, bookshelves lined the walls, and she had to resist the immediate urge to go check out the titles as she hoisted Fred onto the couch.

The other side of the room was what surprised her the most. It had shelves, too, but they were filled with all shapes and sizes of glass containers rather than books. In one corner there was a pile of cauldrons, everything from pewter to gold, miniscule to enormous. There was a large counter-height table in the centre of the area that she presumed was for potion making. It seemed the Room knew her needs better than she did.

When she turned back to Fred, his eyes were open, and he was watching her with a lopsided smile that looked out of place on Ron's face. She crossed over to him and began digging through his pockets. He didn't move to assist her – she wasn't sure he even could have if he'd tried – so it took her a few minutes to find one of the small, red pills. She was glad to be occupied with the quest; otherwise she might have felt awkward at her hand roaming over his body, Ron's or not.

"Here," Hermione said when she'd found it. "Sit up a little and take this."

She helped him, as his attempts at moving on his own were feeble at best, and placed the pill between his lips. It was evident that he had to make an effort even to swallow. She tried not to think about what would have happened if it had hit him in his sleep. The thought made her shudder as Ron's visage shifted to Fred's: red hair grew lighter and shaggier, eyes a brighter, more intense blue.

"Merlin, it's good to see your face," she said, absentmindedly swiping his hair out of his eyes. Now that Fred's face was looking back at her, her heart felt suddenly lighter. Right now, thinking about Ron only brought her confusion and a tiny twinge of guilt. Fred's presence was carefree and without blame; no matter how weak, he was still smiling up at her.

"See?" he said, voice barely a whisper. "I told you that you wanted me."

Hermione laughed so hard that she even surprised herself. She leaned on the edge of the couch, guffawing until she could hardly breathe. When she finally calmed herself, she looked up to see Fred giving her a disappointed look.

"Oh, come off it," she said, once again swiping at his hair, as it had fallen back in his face. "You wouldn't want me, anyway. Be hard to get away with as much as you do, then."

Fred managed to shift on the couch a little, but simply gave her a raised eyebrow and a smile.

"Well, I've got to make my rounds before it's too late," Hermione said, reluctantly standing. "Are you going to be okay here?"

He nodded. "Fine. Go." But before she could walk away, he grabbed her hand. "Thanks."

She smiled at him and dashed out of the room as fast as she could. As soon as she reached the corridor, hot tears filled her eyes. Fred was in there, ill, because of _her_, and he was thanking her. What had she done but abandon her best friends and now place other people for whom she cared in danger?

The halls were student-free—everyone was probably still too busy catching up with their mates to be wandering after hours yet, she thought—and it left her gone just long enough to feel extraordinarily guilty for being away when Fred needed her. She cursed her sense of responsibility and the pride she'd felt upon receiving her Head Girl badge. What did all that matter? She was here to protect Harry and Ron, and that meant protecting Fred and George as well.

She set her face with a determined expression and swiped away the last of her tears only to turn a corner and run squarely into the last person she wanted to see at that moment.

"Get your filthy hands off me, Mudblood!" spat Draco Malfoy as he stumbled backward away from her.

Hermione tried to walk right past him without even acknowledging his presence, but he'd already seen her face.

"What? You and Weasel have a lover's spat?" he said, now sounding more amused than angry. He kept pace with her.

"Sod off, Malfoy," she said, her voice icy. "Just be glad McGonagall didn't take your Prefect's badge along with your dignity, otherwise you'd be in her office right now."

He coughed out a laugh. "Dignity? Mine's a birthright. Which is more than anyone could say for yours."

"You were born with that face, too, but it's not something to brag about either," Hermione said, picking up her pace. Her calves screamed at her as she took a staircase at practically a run. "If you want to make it through your last year here, you'll stop following me."

"Be glad I'm the one following you, Granger," he said, his voice a bit less forceful than moments earlier. "You'd like it even less, otherwise."

She swung around to face him. "What is that supposed to mean? You want to start making veiled threats, Malfoy, and no mandate—not even from the Minister himself—is going to keep you in this school. Or out of Azkaban, for that matter."

Malfoy raised his hands in surrender, but after a second he dropped them and pointed at her. "I'm leaving now. You remember that."

Hermione watched him go, her face screwed up in confusion. Then she turned in the opposite direction and ran. She only slowed down when she got back to the Room of Requirement. Upon entering, however, she was greeted by an empty couch. Her eyes drifted to the other side of the room where she found Fred whistling tunelessly over a bubbling cauldron. A thin line of pale blue smoke obscured his face, but she was sure he was smiling.

"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped, striding across the room.

Fred looked up, his face a mixture of happiness and surprise. "Um, stirring three times clockwise?"

"Alone? Do you realize how dangerous that is?" she continued her rant, coming to stand directly in front of him. He hesitated, and then left his cauldron unstirred to turn and face her. "What if something happened to you? What would I do then? Did you think about that?"

"Hermione…" Fred started.

She flung her arms around him and buried her head against his shoulder, barely registering the height difference this time. He was all right! After a second's hesitation, Fred wrapped his arms around her.

"Hey, what's the matter?"

Hermione pulled away, sniffing. She was proud of not letting a single tear fall. The last thing she wanted was for Fred to see her as an overly emotional little girl. "Nothing. Just Malfoy being…Malfoy. It was stupid of me to listen to him." She paused, then pointed to his cauldron. "What are you working on?"

"Morph Potion," he said, leaning over to take a look into the deep pot. He started to stir again. "I'm trying to isolate the problem. Extreme exhaustion is a really unusual side effect for this type of potion. George thinks it's the Falanxius root, but I don't think it has time to react with the Beebury extract before we add the…."

She watched him as he gestured to different ingredients as he spoke. They were scattered across the tabletop in a manner that drove Hermione absolutely batty just to look, but Fred seemed to know exactly where each was placed. He continued stirring with one hand, but looked at her as he spoke, only glancing back occasionally—to check for problems, she assumed, but the potion seemed to be progressing normally. She just couldn't help admiring how at home he looked.

After another few minutes of this, she laughed. "You lost me back at the Falanxius root."

"I thought you were supposed to be the smartest witch in your class." Fred cocked an eyebrow at her curiously.

"In the whole school, actually," Hermione answered, lifting her nose. She couldn't hold the pose without giggling. It had to be the potion fumes. "But divination was never my strong suit, and you'd have to be a master at it to follow your train of thought just then."

"Point taken." He hesitated, but then asked, "Have you given any thought to what we talked about earlier this summer?"

"About helping the Order?" She nodded. "Yes, but I confess I've been a little distracted."

"With Ron," said Fred, his voice flat.

Hermione blushed and turned her head away for a second. She'd apologized to him and George more times than she could count for Mrs. Weasley's insistence that the twins play, as Fred himself had said, _babysitter_ to the couple, but she guessed even the most understanding friend would still be frustrated after a whole summer of it. "Actually, I was going to say because of my work with Harry," she said. "With Ron, too, but…."

"But what?"

"Nothing," she answered quickly. How was she supposed to explain the complexity of her feelings for Ron without either completely losing him or giving him way more detail than a brother would want? "Have _you_ thought about it?"

"I've thought about it some," he said, adding to the now bubbling cauldron a pinch of some herb Hermione didn't recognize. "I wanted to ask you some questions, but like you said, you've been otherwise occupied."

She sat down on the empty stool near him. "You have my undivided attention."

"Okay," Fred said slowly, as if considering his words carefully, "what's the one thing in the world Harry needs most?"

"Family," Hermione answered without hesitation.

"You know that's not what I mean," he said, not looking at her.

She sighed. "Fred, I thought when you agreed to help us that you understood. I can't tell you what Harry and Ron are up to. Just you knowing they _are_ up to something is more than we intended to tell anyone."

He stopped stirring and stepped over so that he was directly beside her. He leaned back against the table. "Do you trust me, Hermione?"

"That's not fair," she said with a frown. "I can't—"

"Do you?" he persisted.

"Yes."

Fred reached out and took her hand. "I trust you, too. And that's why I won't ask you to tell me about it when you've already explained you can't. You don't have to be on the defensive, alright?" Once she had nodded, he added, "Now Ginny, no guarantees there. I think that girl came out of the womb insisting on information."

She managed a little smile. "Poor George."

"Poor George indeed," he agreed. "Now, what I am asking is for an honest assessment of what sort of thing would do Harry the most good."

"Like?" Hermione asked.

"Offensive or defensive? Stealth, disguise, distraction?" Fred listed. "I could go on."

"Don't you need to be stirring?" she asked, glancing down at her lap, where he was still clasping her hand.

"Oh, bugger!"

While Fred busied himself with trying to save the potion—which was now an odd pea green colour—Hermione made lists in her head. What _did_ Harry really need? They were pretty sure they'd uncovered a method for destroying the Horcruxes once they were found, so that was covered. Harry had his invisibility cloak. Ron's plans had included many detailed diversion techniques.

"Anything?"

Her head snapped up, and she realized Fred was watching her. She didn't remember his eyes being quite so blue. Surely the potion fumes couldn't be causing that, too. "No, I haven't thought of anything yet. How's the potion?"

"Ruined," he said with a crooked smile. "It's okay, though. I wasn't very far into it."

They moved back to the other side of the room where it was more comfortable. Fred stretched out and put his feet in Hermione's lap, and when he didn't move them at her glare, she didn't insist. She waved her wand and the lighting the room dropped to something less clinical and more conducive to conversation.

"Trying to set the mood?" he teased. Again, she just glared. He grinned and shrugged. "Okay, what _can_ you tell me?"

Hermione hesitated. They'd agreed not to discuss the Horcruxes with anyone. Dumbledore had asked Harry not to, and they were such a dangerous and touchy subject that she doubted they would want the information spread far anyway. But the other parts…well, she trusted Fred, right? "There's the prophecy," she said quietly.

"Prophecy?" He certainly didn't look like he'd expected that answer.

She pushed his feet out of her lap and stood, twirling her wand in one hand. She couldn't look at him as she repeated the words:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives._

Fred's mouth was hanging open by the time she'd finished. "So that means…."

"That if Harry can't kill Voldemort, then Harry will die," Hermione said, turning back to look at him. His face was blank as he ran a hand through his hair. "Harry is a powerful wizard, but this is Voldemort that we're talking about. If it's a battle of sheer power…."

"Voldemort wins," he said, locking eyes with her.

Hermione nodded slowly. "So unless you can concoct a potion to keep Harry from dying—" She stopped suddenly, eyes widening in surprise.

"No, Hermione," said Fred quickly, recognizing the look on her face, "it can't be done. Life and death is not something you play with."

"I'm not talking about bring him back from the dead. Or even making him immortal." An involuntary shudder went through her at the thought. She sat back down on the couch next to Fred and turned toward him. Their knees were touching, but she barely registered the contact. "In fact, we need nothing more than what he's already done."

He turned even more in his seat to look at her head-on. His leg brushed softly against hers, and his curious look made a small jolt of hope spring into her chest. He asked, "What are you talking about?"

Hermione smiled, but her hands were shaking as she said, "We've got to find a way to protect Harry from Avada Kedavra."


	8. Shown Up

Chapter Eight

Shown Up

In Charms the next day, the class was working on basic household spells they would need after graduation, since many of them would move out on their own. Hermione had had to warn Fred at least once on being too good at washing dishes, but he insisted she have more faith in Ron. After all, they'd all grown up watching their mother do these spells.

"Your initial idea is flawed, though," Fred whispered as soon as Professor Flitwick had turned his back. "Didn't Harry have protection because his mum died for him?"

"Well, yes," started Hermione, "but I think—"

"It's not like we can go around asking all his friends to sacrifice themselves one by one until we find the one that works." He flicked his wand at the dirty plate floating in front of them, and it clattered back to the desk, shiny as new.

"Yes, I know, but—"

"Your turn." He waved his wand and the plate floated back up, dirty once again. "Though Ron would probably work. I could stand to have him out of the way sometimes, but I think Mum would kill me."

"Would you listen!" Hermione said, louder than she'd intended, her wand bobbing up and down as she spoke. Their plate fell and shattered into several pieces: all of them were still dirty.

"Something you'd like to share with the class, Miss Granger?" said Professor Flitwick. She glanced up to see the teacher look at the broken plate and then up at them.

"No, sir," she replied, blushing. She glared at Fred. "I was just explaining to Ronald the importance of the vertical wand movement, but he insists it's horizontal."

Fred shot a glare right back at her, but what she didn't expect was for him to speak up. "Well, you see, sir, my mum says that while the vertical movement is correct according to the _textbook_," he emphasized the word, smirking at her, "the horizontal combined with a slight clockwise twist at the end is particularly useful for removing stuck-on grease."

Professor Flitwick smiled brightly. "Excellent application of real life knowledge, Mr. Weasley. Ten points to Gryffindor!" Then he waved his wand and said, "_Reparo_," and their plate sprang back into the air.

Hermione frowned as the teacher turned back to Lavender and Parvati, who had managed to break their dishes in half repeatedly when using the _correct_ spell. Fred turned to her and grinned, fluttering his eyelashes innocently, but she only turned as far away from him as she could. He spent the rest of the class trying to get her attention, but she refused to look at him.

As soon as she escaped Charms, she head back to the Gryffindor tower and was glad to see an empty common room as the Fat Lady swung open. As far as she knew, she was the only Gryffindor approved for a self-study period, and the fact that it coincided with everyone else being in class meant she would be able to lounge in the common room sometimes instead of holing up in the library. Considering the severity of the topics she would be researching, she certainly wouldn't mind a little physical ease to make up for the lack of the mental comfort.

Just as she had settled in front of the fire, the portrait opened again and her "boyfriend" entered. She kept her eyes focused stubbornly on her book as he came and sat beside her. He leaned in as if he was trying to read over her shoulder, and still she refused to acknowledge him.

"You know what I think?" Fred asked, his smile only a few inches from her face. When she still didn't respond, he said, "You don't like being shown up."

Hermione didn't look up from her book. She could feel him watching her, and his breath was warm on her cheek. Her heartbeat sped up a little, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. How could she explain why she was so annoyed? Could she even explain it to herself? "You're supposed to be in class."

"Hermione," said Fred, pulling back to settle in at a close, but more comfortable distance, "you're being ridiculous. Just because Professor Flitwick gave me points—"

"Ron doesn't get points," she said simply. She had to reread the same paragraph she'd just finished, and that was possibly one of the most annoying things she ever had to do. Probably second only to shutting down her current companion's pranking schemes before he had left school. Things had certainly changed.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not Ron," he nudged her playfully with his elbow.

"Well, you're supposed to be."

"No one's going to figure it out just because of a stupid Charms lesson," Fred said.

Finally, Hermione closed her book, not even bothering to mark the page. She said softly, "You're not supposed to be you. You're supposed to be Ron. I _need_ you to be Ron."

The smile slid off Fred's face as quickly as a Nosebleed Nougat could get a person out of class. Based solely on his expression, he looked like he could have been sampling some of WWW's finest instead of having a conversation with a friend. She wasn't sure what she'd said to provoke such a reaction, but she immediately regretted whatever it was.

"You're right," Fred said slowly, but there was something in his manner that disturbed her. She was reminded again of his pranking days at Hogwarts whenever she foiled another plan. It was almost…disappointment. "I'll try harder."

"Fred—" she started, but he stood up and turned his back on her before she could continue, and somehow that physical separation made it even harder for her to think of what to say. Especially since she couldn't place the problem. She just watched his back retreat up the stairs into the boys' dormitories.

Later, when she arrived at supper, he wasn't there. For half a second, she thought to hunt him down and rail him good, because it wouldn't be consistent for "Ron" to miss a meal, but she couldn't quite work herself up to be angry with him. A little flicker of worry actually passed through her as she approached the table.

"Fr—Ron left in an awful hurry," said George, managing to slur his words so that his error sounded more like a mouthful of food instead of an actual slip. At least, Hermione hoped so. "He seemed a bit preoccupied with something. You haven't broken his heart, have you?" he joked.

"You and Ron broke up?" chimed in Parvati. The eagerness in the witch's eyes made Hermione think her roommate had just been waiting for an opportunity to pounce. "I've been telling Lavender all along that something wasn't right with you two."

"We haven't split up," said Hermione as she sat down. She felt her face grow hot. Then suddenly she felt a moment of worry and looked at George. "Unless he's said something to you that I don't know about."

George raised an eyebrow at her but said, "Oh, he's just being Ron. Who knows what he's got his knickers in a twist about this time?"

"I heard it's because he can't get _her_ knickers off," she heard Lavender say in what was undoubtedly supposed to be an undertone. Instead, half the table turned to gape at Hermione. She stopped midway through scooping potatoes onto her plate and managed to fumble, causing the spoon to fall to the table with a loud clatter. Anyone who wasn't yet staring looked toward her.

"You're just jealous because he never got into yours." Hearing Harry's voice come to her defence made her heart warm a tiny bit, even knowing it was really George, and that Harry himself probably wouldn't have said it.

"Well, it's not like they even act like they're dating," mumbled Lavender, and then she started whispering with a fifth year who'd been eyeing them all curiously.

"I am _right_ here," said Hermione through clenched teeth. She stood up suddenly, her food untouched. "I'm going to the library. See you later, Harry?"

George offered her a small encouraging smile, but she couldn't return it. Lavender's words ate at her as she walked through the sparsely populated corridors. For the first time since she'd arrived back at school, she really let herself think about her relationship with Ron—the real Ron. They'd had nearly the entire summer together, and she was sure Ron's ex-girlfriend would have found their activities sufficient proof of a healthy relationship. After all, they'd done practically nothing but snog.

But it wasn't her physical relationship with Ron that bothered her. It was that she hadn't even noticed that it was something her "relationship" with Fred lacked. The decoy's impression of Ron's classroom finesse—or lack thereof—was a point of contention, but she had never considered that anyone would question whether or not they were a couple. She felt close to Fred, sometimes so much so that it surprised her. How could she have missed that the closeness wasn't appropriately physical for a dating couple?

The library was quiet with most everyone still at supper, so she managed to find an out of the way table where she could curl up without interruption. At least, she thought it was secluded. Barely thirty seconds later, someone sat next to her.

"Is there a reason you're hiding back here?" asked Draco Malfoy, leaning back in his chair so that the front legs came off the floor.

"Following me again, Malfoy?" said Hermione, watching him through her peripheral vision as she pulled out her Charms textbook.

"You're much more interesting than Weasel," he said flippantly. "All he's done this afternoon is mope about the Quidditch pitch. Who knew losing you could have such an effect on a guy, Granger?"

"We haven't split!" It wasn't quite a shout, but Hermione still surprised herself with the volume. Even Malfoy looked a little shocked at the outburst, though he covered it quickly. Hoping Madame Pince would stay away if she heard no further outbursts, she said in a quieter voice, "Why is everyone so suddenly fascinated with our relationship?"

"I didn't say I was interested," said Malfoy, but he didn't move or look away.

"I mean, for years I hear people whispering behind my back about how we should be together, but now we are, and no one believes it's real?" She flipped through her book with such fury that she couldn't seem to find chapter four, despite passing both three and five several times.

"Well, no one can blame you for at least giving it a try," said Malfoy, rocking on the chair's two legs. He put a foot on the edge of her chair for balance. "A charity case like that looks good on a resume right next to your Head Girl badge."

Hermione slammed her book closed. "Charity case?" she said, her voice quiet, but threatening. "The Weasleys are twice the family yours is, and I would rather date any one of them than even have to share this table with you for another second."

Malfoy's eyes lit up with the hatred she was used to seeing there, and it made her feel even more comfortable with her actions as she stood and shoved her chair under the table. He went off balance and toppled backward with a loud crash and much cursing.

Before he could get up, Hermione moved to stand over him, her wand pointed into his face. "Stay away from me and stay away from my friends. Otherwise, I promise to show you exactly how _dirty_ my blood can be when I hex you into Azkaban with your foul father."

She walked calmly out of the library, smiling pleasantly at Madame Pince as the woman rushed to investigate the ruckus. As soon as she reached the halls and a quick glance had assured her no one was around, she broke into a run. Without knowing it, Malfoy had clarified things for her better than introspection ever could have. She didn't dwell on that—having her intellect shown up twice in one day didn't sit well with her; Fred was right, after all. She just hoped that all of Malfoy's information would be so useful.

It was nearly dark when Hermione reached the Quidditch pitch, and she almost didn't see him at first. A second glance showed Fred—the real Fred—sitting alone in the Gryffindor stands. His head was rested in his hands, and, though he seemed to be looking directly at her as she approached, he didn't even acknowledge her when she'd climbed up to sit right next to him.

"Fred—" she started.

"Don't worry, no one else can see me," he interrupted, still staring into space. "I cast a selective Disillusionment Charm before I took the pill."

"I'm sorry."

Fred looked at her, surprise evident on his face. "What? Why?"

Hermione wrung her hands. "I didn't mean that I wanted Ron here instead of you," she said softly, looking up at him. "It's just confusing, having you here wearing his face."

"You miss him," he said.

Nodding, she said, "I miss them both. And when I think about them out there alone…."

Before she knew it, Fred's arm was wrapped around her shoulder and she was snuggled up against him. The warmth felt really nice. "I wish there was some way I could take his place. Out there," he added hastily, "so he could be here with you."

"That's just it," she said, tilting her face up toward his. She was struck once again by the colour of his eyes as the moonlight reflected off of them and lent its grey glow to the already mesmerizing tones she found there. "I realized I don't want him here. You're the one I need right now."

"Hermione…." Fred's body stiffened, his fingers ceasing the kneading they'd begun on her shoulder. His eyes were wide and wandering nervously over her features. He swallowed, lips moving as if to say something else and then settling closed again.

She nestled her head back down against his chest, and she felt him relax immediately. "I never thought I'd say this to you, after all the headache you used to cause me, but I can't think of anyone else I could trust with this. If only you knew how important…."

Fred's hand started to run up and down her arm, and the tiny bit of chill that had begin to seep through her robes disappeared instantly. He said, "I want to be what you need, but I'm not sure I can."

"What matters most is that you're willing to try," Hermione said. "We have a start on the potion, even if we don't know where it's going yet."

He rested his chin on top of her head, and they sat in silence a moment before he spoke again. "I think maybe I was wrong about people not noticing anything."

She was so relaxed wrapped up in his arms that she didn't want to move, but his words merited face-to-face conversation. She pulled back to look at him. "What do you mean?"

He ran a hand through his hair, but it still flopped back to lay halfway in his eyes, and she had to consciously avoid brushing it to the side. "Malfoy was out here earlier," he said. "I don't think he realised I knew he was there, but I did."

"He's following us," Hermione said, nodding, "but I don't think it has anything to do with our little switch. He's a Death Eater. It's likely he's just continuing what was started this summer."

"Keeping an eye on Harry's friends," Fred said, realization showing in his face. He frowned. "You saw him last night, too, didn't you?"

"And in the library a little while ago."

He put a hand on her cheek. "Be careful, okay? It could be a coincidence, but he seems a bit fixated on you."

"So threatening to hex him probably wasn't the best idea, huh?" Hermione joked. She expected to at least get a smile out of him, but as she gazed back at him, she saw nothing but intense worry in his eyes. "I'm a big girl, Fred. I can handle Malfoy."

"Hermione."

She put her hand over his. "I promise to watch him, okay?" Then she turned away a little, pulling away from his touch. "I think we may have a bigger problem than just Malfoy. The gossip train had already started this afternoon just because we didn't speak for a few hours. Apparently no one has much faith that Ron and I are an actual couple."

Fred finally laughed. "Little do they know, right? I thought there might be some talk going around. Dean asked me this morning what was going on with 'us.'"

"I know it's going to be a little strange," she said, glancing over at him, nerves suddenly making her throat raspy, "but we need to make an effort to be seen together."

"I see," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement, "it's all part of your plan to seduce me."

Hermione was glad that it was dark outside, because she was sure her cheeks were bright red. "Fred, it's weird enough as it is. I mean, I know I'm probably the last person you—"

"Hermione, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather pretend to be dating." He smiled. "Really, I promise it's not a chore."

He motioned for her to come closer, and she let herself be pulled back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her and his hands clasped around hers in front of them. They settled back in the seats, and she couldn't help but think that, despite the open darkness around them, she felt the safest she had in a long time. It didn't feel strange, being held by Fred like this. There was no expectation in it, no ulterior motive. He was making her comfortable and simultaneously letting her know _he_ was comfortable. She couldn't be sure how he managed to convey that in his silence, but she understood him completely.

After a few minutes, Fred started to talk again, this time about the shop, his mum, Bill and Fleur's new house, everything. He nestled his cheek against the side of her head, and the vibration of his soft words tickled her ear, but she didn't care. If she could have frozen time at that moment, she would have.

It was long after curfew when they returned to the castle, and for once, Hermione didn't care.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry this chapter was a little late coming, but I've been out of town at a convention, geeking out and seeing Matthew Lewis and James and Oliver Phelps! Plus I'm _normally_ early posting, so do you think you can forgive me this time?

If you haven't done so yet, please check out my Charlie/Hermione story, _Not As Expected_. It has nearly caught up to this one in length—that's how much it's writing itself.


	9. Looking for Love

Chapter Nine

Looking for Love

"Now I know the team has suffered since Fred and George Weasley were banned from play two years ago, but I'm confident that this year we can pull together and make the best of what we've got."

Hermione rolled her eyes at George's impassioned speech but couldn't suppress a grin as she turned her attention back to her book. As hard as he'd been drilling the Gryffindor Quidditch team's potential members, she certainly hoped he'd been making some progress in his secret nightly Seeker practice. From Fred's last update, his twin still hadn't come near mastering Harry's skill, so the least of the team's worries was the absence of the infamous beater team. Fred was apparently faring a little better as Keeper, though she had to admit it was probably only because he didn't have Ron's problem with nerves.

She scanned a few more pages before skipping over her current chapter entirely. She wasn't exactly a Quidditch fan, but even it was holding her interest more than the drivel printed in the ancient manuscript she was reading. Either the author simply love himself more than the subject matter—she was often reminded of Gilderoy Lockhart—or he really did have an inordinate number of accidents with love potions that ended in sordid (and detailed) affairs. Either way, she had yet to find any reference to the sort of love she was researching. Surely _someone_ had to have documented at least one instance of the types of protective magics that had kept Harry safe all these years.

After a few more minutes scanning the next chapter, Hermione's gaze wandered back to the pitch. Prospective chasers were lined up along the ground watching the air above them as the veteran members auditioned each of their housemates. Ginny diverted the examinee's attention by flying quick circles around them while she and Demelza threw the Quaffle back and forth. A second year named Isadora Mawry actually received shouts of praise from George, and Hermione could have sworn she saw a scowl on Ginny's face even from the stands.

"So what did you think?" Fred asked as they walked back up to the castle afterward. He reached down for her hand and wound his fingers through hers. Hermione's stomach did a little flip-flop despite herself.

"You know, as much Quidditch as I've watched over the years, I still can't say it holds my attention all that well."

He stopped and stared at her open-mouthed, but after a few seconds he just grinned and kept on walking. "I suppose you're entitled to dislike it, as much as you've been dragged against your will."

They stepped into the entry hall to a throng of other students headed into lunch. "I never said I disliked it," Hermione said, taking the lead to navigate them through the crowd. "I just find it hard to follow. Unfortunately, today my reading material was just as bad."

"No luck then?" When she shook her head, Fred opened his mouth to speak then stopped. His eyebrows scrunched up. "You really don't understand Quidditch?"

"Well, you've never stopped blathering on about it long enough to stop and explain it to her, have you?" said Ginny from across the table as they sat down.

"Why haven't _you_ done?" Fred spat back. Hermione couldn't tell if he was going for a show of Ron's temper of if he'd actually taken his sister's words personally. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought the latter.

Ginny looked at Hermione and rolled her eyes. "_We_ have loads of other things to talk about, Ron."

"It's really not an issue," said Hermione, grabbing small helpings of a few different lunch dishes. She looked at her "boyfriend." "Really."

Fred turned completely sideways to look at her, and when she didn't respond likewise, he physically removed her hand from her fork and turned her head to face him. "Come to our first practice, and I promise to take the time to explain it."

On Fred's other side, George grunted out a laugh. "Hermione, what have you done to him? You've turned my br—best friend into a sap."

Across the table, Ginny had actually cracked a smile. "I think it's sweet." She glared at her ex. "You'd do well to learn a thing or two."

"Thank you, Ron," Hermione said simply. She leaned in and hugged him, then whispered, "But George is right. Ron's never _that_ sweet."

She started to pull back, but he stopped her so that they were looking into one another's eyes, faces practically touching. "He should be." Then he nuzzled her nose with his and brushed a light kiss on her cheek. "You're worth it."

When Fred turned back to his plate, Hermione found it took her half a second to regain her senses and return to her own meal. She did her best to ignore the stares she was getting. So what if she'd been sitting there like a lovesick fool with her eyes half closed and her senses blurry from his closeness? Wasn't that how they _expected_ her to act with her boyfriend?

Owl post came midway through the meal during an animated conversation Fred and George were having about Puddlemere United's chances in the upcoming season. They both stopped cold, however, when a small grey owl dropped an even smaller envelope in front of Hermione.

She felt her stomach flutter unpleasantly as she reached for the letter. She only knew of four people who might be writing her, and the owl she'd gotten her parents was much larger and much browner. Her hands were trembling when she pulled out a single sheet of parchment. "It's from Fred and George," she said with a quick glance at Fred.

"I haven't gotten an owl from them since they left for the States," said Ginny, giving her a strange look. "Since when do they write to you?"

"Since they asked Hermione to help with a project," said Fred, smiling at her with something like pride.

"One of their more _responsible_ projects," clarified Hermione, but her thoughts were not really on the conversation. Her eyes scanned the short note a couple of times before she said, "They said they think they've found a couple of good places, and that they could be back in town for a little while as soon as a week from now."

With every word she spoke, it was more difficult for Hermione to keep her voice steady. Had they located a couple of Horcruxes already, so soon? The three had done exhaustive research over the summer, but to be barely over a week into the school year and have found some? And they were coming for a visit. She knew they were going to try, but she hadn't let herself get her hopes up. Now….

"Excuse me," she said, standing abruptly. "I just remembered a book I need from the library."

Hermione couldn't even look at her companions as she walked out of the Great Hall; Ginny seemed too confused by her sudden exit to even comment. She wasn't sure where she was going—the library would be too crowded at this time on a Saturday—but her legs helped her seek solitude without much conscious thought of the place. She shouldn't have been surprised, though, when she found herself pacing in front of the Room of Requirement.

Her and Fred's room appeared and she entered after only a tiny hesitation. Why shouldn't she go there for comfort? Actually, researching potions with Fred had been one of the few things she'd done since coming to school that hadn't been upsetting or confusing. Frustrating, sure. They hadn't made any progress, despite spending as much time as possible holed up in the room, Hermione with books and Fred with their seemingly endless supply of ingredients. So when she sank down onto the couch and drew one of the old leather-bound books into her lap, she felt almost an instant calmness settle over her. Harry and Ron were alive, well, and having success—that was all that mattered.

"Can't even stop reading long enough to finish your lunch now?"

Hermione looked up and saw Fred, still under the influence of the Morph Potion, standing just inside the door watching her. He was grinning cheekily, but something in his eyes gave him away: he was worried about her.

"I didn't think we'd hear from them so soon," she said as he came to sit next to her.

"But it's good news, right?" he asked, putting an arm around her and squeezing. "You ran off so fast I wasn't sure."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Yeah, it's good news."

They sat for a few minutes in silence, something with which they'd become very comfortable. Hermione absentmindedly played with the pages in her book, but she wasn't really reading them. Fred's only movement was the soft caress of his hand moving up and down her arm. It was as if, for those few minutes, nothing could touch them. Not the stress of the upcoming N.E.W.T.s, not the gossip of their classmates, and especially not Voldemort.

"Did you hear they announced a Halloween ball?" said Fred.

Hermione groaned, but nodded. She raised her head off his shoulder to look at him. "Ron would hate a costume ball. To be forced to dance and wear whatever costume your mum cooked up for him?"

Fred grinned widely. "But if I can come up with a plausible reason why he'd be there, then you'll go with me?"

She watched his eyes and saw nothing but eagerness there. The truth was, she wanted to go—as Head Girl, probably should go—but hadn't brought it up because it wasn't mandatory and Ron would be unlikely to go without coaxing. It was easier to not go at all than to think about a night filled with Fred's imitation of Ron having a miserable time. The Yule ball was three years past, but sometimes the most superficial wounds hurt the most.

"I'd love to go with you," she said, smiling up at him. "If for nothing else than to see what you've got up your sleeve."

He gave her a little extra squeeze. "Now that's the Hermione I love." He stood quickly and pulled her up with him. "Come on. George was worried about you, too. Besides, we can't leave Harry out too often without it seeming weird that he doesn't resent us."

"This doesn't have to be a secret from him, you know," she said as they exited the room. His hand was still clasped around hers, and she gave it a little squeeze.

He gave her an oddly crooked smile. "You mean you haven't told Harry we're dating?"

Hermione smacked him on the arm. "You know what I mean."

"He's fine," Fred replied seriously. "He thinks it's best if we handle this alone, if nothing but for the pretence that we're spending all the time together."

"So you told him about our little project?" she asked, lowering her voice as they got closer to the common room and the number of students they were passing increased.

"The night before we came to school," he said, a blush rising across his cheeks and ears. She wasn't sure if it was due to extreme embarrassment, or just the fact that Ron's body was incapable of a smaller reaction.

"I thought you wanted to keep it secret." Hermione knew she shouldn't be hurt—she would have encouraged him to tell the truth if he'd mentioned it—but somehow knowing that their task was no longer just between them made it seem less significant. She knew that was ridiculous, that anything they could do to help Harry would be more than significant. Still…. "He didn't give you too hard a time, did he?"

"Actually, he just laughed at me for not mentioning it earlier," said Fred with a smile. "It seems my brother has more of a serious side than I realized. I hope it's not an incurable disease," he added with a widened grin as he jabbed her lightly with his elbow. "After all, we do have a joke shop to run when this is all over."

She allowed a small smile in response, but before she could dwell any further on the issue, George popped into view and immediately began dragging them in the opposite direction of the common room.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked in a loud whisper as the three descended the staircase past a gaggle of Hufflepuff third year girls giggling loudly and pointing at the famous seventh year.

"I have managed to procure us a selection of delectable treats," said George, giving them a hard look. "After all, lunch was cut short by the arrival of the post."

Hermione tried to protest, but as they walked through the corridors, she found she didn't have the energy to complain. She was more curious than anything. Despite the off-limits destination, George had a more serious expression on his face than she had seen in a long time. It nearly topped some of Harry's most intense expression, and that was intriguing. After all, how could George even begin to understand, and thus exude emotionally, some of the grim things that her best friend had?

They easily passed the secret portrait entrance into the kitchens, and George finally stopped manhandling them. Fred rubbed his wrist as he said, "What the bloody hell was that all about?"

"Malfoy," spat George with such ferocity that for a moment even Hermione could have nearly mistook him for the person he was decoying. "He's been asking questions about us. Using the younger students' star struck tendencies to probe them for information. Alvin Zilder told me the git offered him ten galleons for a piece of my hair. Poor little guy thought Malfoy was just a closet fan, so he just asked me for it straight out."

Hermione felt her mouth drop open. "You didn't give it to him, did you?"

George gave her a hard look. "I know I'm gorgeous, but you can't so mesmerized by my gloriousness that you've forgotten I have a brain, Hermione."

She opened her mouth to respond with an equally sarcastic comment when she was interrupted by a shaky, high-pitched voice.

"You is not Harry Potter."

Hermione whipped her head around to see the small form of Dobby the house elf dressed in an inordinate amount of clothing, some of which she recognized from knitting it herself. He was pointing a finger at George, but he was trembling so badly that it looked like he was trying to wave at them. He gave her a sympathetic glance before glaring back at the Weasley twins. "Dobby does not like evil wizards who fool Harry Potter's friend. Dobby will tell the Headmistress."

"No wait!" Hermione managed, just as the elf had moved to apparate. He froze in mid-step, fixing his gaze on her. "You can see that these two are not my friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley?"

Dobby nodded slowly.

"Amazing. I never knew house elves had that sort of perception." Then she shook herself out of her reverie and knelt on the floor in front of the small creature. "Dobby, these are Ron's brothers, Fred and George. Surely you've at least heard speak of them."

Again, Dobby nodded slowly. His eyes flicked to the twins and then back to her.

"Harry and Ron are away on a very important mission, and Fred and George are pretending to be them so that no one will know they're gone." She allowed herself a small smile. "It's very important that no one knows this secret, Dobby. Can we trust you and the others to keep it?"

A few other house elves had begun to take an interest in the conversation. They all kept themselves busy with scrubbing dishes and food preparations for the evening feast, but Hermione could tell they were paying attention all the same. When she glanced up at them, a tiny elf with a bright green uniform gave a little yelp and dove behind a table as if afraid of getting in trouble for his watching.

Dobby watched her carefully as she spoke and seemed to be sizing her up. Finally he said, "Harry Potter must defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Yes, that's right," Hermione replied. "Harry would be in great danger if anyone knew he was not actually at school."

"Dobby can help!" the elf said, suddenly eager. His trembling turned to a sort of joyful bouncing coupled with a giddy smile. "The Miss must tell Dobby his duties."

Behind her, Hermione felt Fred and George relax. Fred placed a hand on her shoulder, "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

She patted his hand, but kept her eyes focused on Dobby. "Do you remember last year when Harry had you following Draco Malfoy?"

Dobby's eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

"I'd like you to do so again," she said, then added, "if you want to, that is. It would be very help—"

The little elf launched himself at her feet, nearly in tears. "Dobby is grateful for the chance to help Harry Potter. Dobby will make note of everything."

Hermione patted him on his overly clad head and smiled brightly. How was it that so few others could see just how good these creatures were? Far too good to be enslaved like they were. Far too powerful to not be allowed to exercise their magics like the rest of the world. The only unpleasant house elf she'd ever met was Kreacher, and surely his attitude was only a product of—she froze in her patting, causing Dobby to look up at her.

"Is Harry Potter's Miss well?" he said, his big, round eyes shining up at her.

"Dobby, is Kreacher still here at Hogwarts?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice even.

"Oh yes, Miss. Nasty thing that he is. Tries to speak ill of Harry Potter, but Dobby tells him right, he does."

Hermione's chest constricted painfully. Why hadn't she thought of it before? She glanced up at Fred and George, who were both eying her curiously. She could send them away while she continued this line of questioning, but what would that accomplish, really? Perhaps it was time that they learned more about what they were up against. Professor Dumbledore hadn't wanted Harry to share it with others beyond her and Ron, but she was also fairly sure he hadn't intended on being murdered before their mission could be completed.

"Does he have any items with him? Anything that he brought with him from his Master's house?"

Dobby gave a little jump and stood upright. "Yes, Miss. Everyone says how disgraceful it is, stealing from his Master's house. Keeps them hidden away in his sleeping place—"

"Is there a locket, Dobby?" interrupted Hermione, unable to keep the frantic tone out of her voice away any longer. "Think, Dobby. It's very important."

He nodded, even more enthusiastically than before. "Would Miss like Dobby to retrieve it for her? She can return it to Kreacher's new Master, her friend Harry Potter!" And without even waiting for an answer, he disapparated with a loud cracking sound.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Fred asked, crouching down next to her. "Why is this house elf stealing something for you?"

She turned to face him and placed one hand on his cheek. She read the confusion in his eyes, and could only smile back at him. "I'll explain everything later. _Everything_."

Dobby reappeared only a moment later clutching a small gold locket as if it was his most prized possession. He dropped it into Hermione's outstretched hand, which was shaking nearly as much as his had been when they first entered. She gripped the jewellery gingerly, as if Voldemort's soul fragment could jump out and get her at any moment. For all she knew, it might indeed be able to do just that.

An enraged Kreacher appeared only a second later, his aged voice almost growling with his insults. "Filthy mudblood is dirtying Master's locket with her vile touch. Kreacher should have hidden it better. Kreacher should—"

"You shouldn't have stolen it in the first place!" Hermione yelled, surprised at the volume with which she lashed out. "If only you knew—"

She stopped as soon as she felt Fred's touch once again. It was like whatever spell her anger had over her words faltered and then failed entirely. She stood up swiftly, turning away from the angry elf to face the more pleasant one. "Thank you, Dobby. I'll make sure Harry gets this back. You've just helped save his life, you know."

Dobby puffed up his chest. "Dobby is proud to help the greatest wizard in the world."

"We should go," said George softly, as if afraid speaking the words in Harry's voice would provoke more impassioned words from the elf. "I promised Ginny we'd meet her back in the common room after I convinced you to eat some more."

"Let me know if he does anything strange, okay?" Hermione said, and Dobby nodded once more, then disappeared again. After tucking the locket away in the pocket of her robes, she turned back to the twins, still ignoring Kreacher. "Let's go."

"Now do you want to tell us what that was all about?" asked Fred as they made their way back through the winding corridors. He reached down for her hand, and she was so used to the gesture now that she only noted it in passing.

"Not here," she said. "Our place. G—Harry should come, too."

"Only if you're sure," Fred said, and George nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure."

"Well, isn't this an interesting development." Draco stepped out of a shadowy corner and into their path. "First the Weasel can't seem to keep his girlfriend, and now he's letting Potty into their little trysts. Are you sure she won't start to prefer him? After all, he does have fame and fortune on his side."

"Shut it, Malfoy," said Fred, gripping her hand a little more tightly.

"He's not even worth the trouble, Ron," Hermione said, trying to step around him.

Draco stepped directly in front of her. "Or maybe that's the plan," he side, a vile grin spreading across his face. "Maybe you just can't find the best way to get rid of her, so you're foisting her off onto your best friend."

"You'd better watch yourself, Malfoy," said George, a dangerous tone to his voice.

Hermione clenched her fist around her wand but didn't draw it. A few spectators had started to form at the sound of the raised voices, and the last thing she wanted was to draw even more attention to herself by getting detention over Malfoy's taunts. Still, she felt the blood rising to her cheeks.

Malfoy kept talking. "I don't blame you, really. A disgusting Muggle-born like her. I'd have trouble being near her too much as well. Perhaps you've decided to be better than the rest of your blood traitor family and—"

Hermione was so upset by that time that she wouldn't have been surprised if she'd reacted out of anger and hexed him despite the crowd. How dare he spout such insults after having been accused of the ultimate crime of hatred in the murder of Professor Dumbledore? Her own actions would not have shocked her at all. What she didn't expect was for Fred to take matters into his own hands.

So when he—without so much as a split second warning—kissed her full on the mouth, all she could do was let it happen…and wonder why Ron had never kissed her like that before.

* * *

A/N: Wow, this chapter has been a long time coming. I'm planning on updating _Not As Expected_ tomorrow, and _The One Thing_ the day after that (in a perfect world). After that, I'm doing NaNoWriMo, so I most likely won't be able to update at all in the month of November. Granted, there's always the possibility of writer's block on my superhero novel giving me time to work on these, but let's not hope for that. I think I'm going to have enough trouble hitting 50,000 words in a month as it is. It's really too bad I have to fool with a full-time job, otherwise I'd be able to do it all. Anyway, thanks for being patient everyone. Just know that I haven't abandoned any of these, despite life getting in the way of my plans to update frequently. 


	10. According to Plan

Chapter Ten

According to Plan

Fred's lips were soft and smooth as they crushed against hers with a fervour that Hermione had never experienced before. After that initial onslaught, he pulled back a little. Not enough that they lost contact, but just a teasing amount so that it was as light as a breath. Without even thinking about it, she rose up on her tiptoes and deepened the kiss again. His hands immediately moved up from her arms to the back of her neck where his fingertips dipped into her hair.

This was Ron kissing her, in body if not in mind, except it wasn't Ron at all. The tentative nature of the kiss faded away after only a few seconds, and his lips caressed hers as if he wanted nothing more than to provoke the little sigh that escaped her before she could stop it. There was nothing greedy about it, nothing possessive. She had been so surprised by Fred's sudden action that she wouldn't have known how to react anyway, had thinking even been possible. This was no tongue tangling, groping-in-the-closet sort of kiss. And it was the nicest one she'd ever had.

When they finally pulled apart, everyone was staring at them, mouths gaping, especially George. Hermione knew she was flushed, and not just out of embarrassment. She clung to Fred and buried her head against his shoulder. She knew a lot about a lot of things, and was rarely afraid to speak her mind, but somehow being in that position in front of all those people rendered her completely speechless.

"Now, if anyone else is thinking about insulting me or my girlfriend by doubting my feelings," Fred was saying beside her in an excellent imitation of Ron's nastiest fits of temper, "I'd suggest you reconsider."

Sometime in the middle of his speech—or the snogging, for all Hermione knew—he had drawn his wand. He wasn't pointing it at anyone, but had carefully concealed it against his thigh. She had no doubt Malfoy had seen it, however, because the blond boy took a step back from them, eyeing their audience carefully.

"I suppose you deserve one another, then," said Malfoy in an unreadable tone.

"More than you deserve to be here," replied George coldly.

The others were looking on the scene with either undisguised interest, or obvious fright. The latter were older students who knew the trio and their nemesis pretty well, at least by reputation. And there was nothing safe about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy being in a duelling mood. It was probably a really good thing that Harry wasn't actually at the school right then, because having an excuse to hurt Malfoy sounded like something he would have welcomed.

"Come on, Hermione," said Fred, and she was surprised to hear his voice sounded as unsteady as she felt.

They moved through the small crowd without even acknowledging Malfoy again. Fred's arm was looped around her waist, and she was glad for the additional support. Her hands and just about every other part of her were shaking uncontrollably by the time they reached the common room. A lot of faces turned to look at them as they entered. Neville jumped up so fast that Hermione would have smiled at him if she could have found the capability.

"What's happened, Ron?" he said, the concern evident in his tone and expression.

"It's alright, Neville," said George, putting a hand on their friend's shoulder. "She's just a bit shaken up."

"Shaken?" said Ginny, looking worriedly over the top of her Potions book. "Looks more like she's been in a duel." She discarded the book on the table next to her and stood. "Merlin, Hermione, I haven't seen you so worked up since that night this summer."

Hermione knew exactly which night she meant—when Harry had returned to the Burrow after a near-death encounter with Voldemort and the Death Eaters—but she found it utterly ridiculous to be comparing this moment to that one. She'd only been accosted by Malfoy and then kissed by Fred, all in all not much worse than the average day at Hogwarts in this time of war. But no matter how lightly her mind could take the situation, gloss over it, her body's reaction was much more severe. Why couldn't she stop trembling?

By sheer force of will, she pulled herself out of Fred's grasp, tentatively testing her legs before letting go of him entirely. "I'm fine," she said, and put on a big smile. "Doesn't hurt to play the victim a little, show some of the first years just how vile Malfoy is. I think we did pretty well, don't you, Ron? Got him right sorted, and I didn't even have to take house points."

Fred smiled, too. "Next time he says anything like that to you, I'll skip straight to hexing his bollocks off."

"You'll do no such thing," Hermione said, but she stretched up and gave her fake boyfriend a kiss on the cheek and stopped long enough to whisper something in his ear. "You were brilliant. I think we'll soon have the whole school fooled." Then aloud she said, "I think I'll have a short nap. Don't forget our N.E.W.T. study session tonight."

She heard groans behind her as she climbed the stairs to the girl's dormitories without another glance at the group. Any other time she would have turned right back around and told them exactly what she thought of their attitude toward such an important thing in their lives, but it seemed so inconsequential right then. Just the simple knowledge that N.E.W.T.s were truly the last thing on her mind made the whole situation seem even worse. This was her future, and yet she was more worried about surviving long enough to use her test scores than she was about the scores themselves.

She flopped onto her bed, glad that her roommates had not chosen that afternoon for a gossip fest, which meant their room would be uninhabitable for several hours, and usually drove her to the library. Assured by the emptiness of the room, she pulled out Ron and Harry's letter once again, reading it over and over. Maybe a visit was exactly what she needed. She'd been on edge all day; it was the only explanation for her body's reaction to Malfoy's torment.

And then there was the kiss. It had been…nothing short of wonderful, if she were to be honest with herself. Fred had obviously had experience in that arena, and he hadn't held back in the least. The way his lips had effortlessly coaxed hers into a response, the way everyone else seemed to disappear as she was totally absorbed by the lightest touch of his hand on her skin. Hermione had lowered the letter closed her eyes before she even realised it. She snapped back to attention.

Yes, she definitely needed to see Harry and Ron. If nothing else, Ron would be able to drag her off to one of those broom cupboards on the third floor where she always seemed to find snogging couples while on patrol. A few minutes of fumbling around in the dark with him would be able to wipe all thoughts of _that_ kiss out of her head.

There was a knock at the door, and Ginny first peeked her head in and then came in all the way, shutting the door again behind her. She was carrying a large book bound in pink leather that reminded Hermione a lot of the genre of reading her roommates would prefer. Probably a fluffy, romantic novel about some witch who was forced to marry and eventually fell in love with her brash-yet-annoyingly-handsome husband. She wasn't surprised that Ginny would have such a book, but it didn't make it any less humorous.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked, sitting down on Lavender's bed. She studied her friend for a second before adding, "You don't seem upset. You actually look…happy. Was all that really an act?"

Hermione covered her mouth in surprise. Had she really been smiling so big? She shook her head and swallowed a giggle as she said, "I'm fine. I was a little shaken, but Ron handled it."

Ginny snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure Ron was absolutely brilliant. What happened anyway?"

"Malfoy," Hermione said with such venom that it practically hung in the air like a poisonous cloud. "I only hope that he continues to draw attention to himself. Eventually he'll slip up in front of a professor if we're lucky."

Ginny nodded. "I thought as much. Still…are you sure it wasn't anything else?" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "One of those things you're not bleeding allowed to tell me?"

"No, that's all. He's following us and causing trouble. Why?"

"Well, it's just that Ron is in a right foul mood," she said, face scrunched up. "But in a completely un-Ron way. I mean he's being so quiet." At Hermione's look she added, "Well, yeah, he's quite fond of the silent treatment, to be sure, but usually he's banging around books and slamming doors and just generally making sure everyone _knows_ he's mad, even if he's not talking to you. But today he's just sitting there."

"What about Harry? How does he seem?" Hermione's mind zoomed from one possibility to the next, but she couldn't really place what about the encounter could have bothered Fred so much. Had she missed something Malfoy had said or done in her righteous anger? She wanted to immediately go down to the common room and drag him off to talk about it, but she still wasn't sure her legs would hold her.

Ginny glared at her. "Well, _if_ I was paying any attention to how Harry Potter seemed, I would say he was quiet but not sullen. But since I'm not, you'll just have to ask him yourself."

"You really shouldn't give him such a hard time, Gin."

"I bloody well should! Why's everyone so understanding of him when I'm the one who's been jilted?"

Hermione sighed. "He's got a lot more important things on his mind right now. You know that."

The other girl snorted and climbed off the bed, her long hair swinging wildly as she turned back to face Hermione. Her face was calm, but there was something off about it, like a watched pot that hadn't quite managed to boil. "But I _don't_ know it. I don't know anything about it. I'm too fragile right? No one bothers to notice I can take right good care of myself without sodding Harry Potter's help." She stopped and took a deep breath, and when she continued her words were smoother and less frenetic once again. "But I have a plan, so don't you worry a bit about Ginevra Weasley. I won't let a little thing like being gutted by the man I love stop me."

"Ginny…" said Hermione warningly.

"No, Hermione, don't even try it. You have your little secrets, and I have mine."

The look on the girl's face was one Hermione had seen on many occasions, and she knew there was going to be no convincing her to speak on the subject any more. If Ginny was planning something to do with Harry, then it could mean nothing but trouble. They were going to have to be on their guard. For a split second, she almost considered telling her everything. But if her friend had such a strong reaction when she didn't know anything, there was no telling how she'd be after learning the truth about what Harry and Ron were doing. No, it was best to change the subject.

"Speaking of secrets," Hermione said, a sly little grin creeping onto her face. "What's this book you've got? I thought you'd finished your assignments already."

The trademark Weasley blush spread across Ginny's face, and she quickly hid the book behind her back. "Nothing. Just a little leisure reading. You aren't the only one who's allowed to read for fun, are you?"

Hermione stood and walked toward the girl, smile growing as she said, "Oh, come on, Gin. What's the plot of choice? Maybe he's her brother's best friend, and he's never seen her as anything but a little girl? Or were they required by law to marry? Perhaps she's pregnant after a one night stand?"

By the time she got to the end of her string of questions, Hermione was chasing Ginny around the room trying to grab hold of the book, and they were both laughing so hard they could barely breath. Ginny was shrieking so loud that it was surprising no one had come to check on them yet. Finally, Hermione was the victor, and she grabbed the book and ran back to her bed.

"_Bound by Marriage_," Hermione read.

"Arranged marriage," explained Ginny, a sheepish smile on her face.

Hermione heard the words, but her mind had been sucked into an entirely different chore. _Bound by Marriage_. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and she couldn't quite place why. Was there something she should remember, something important that those words indicated? Ginny was giving her a strange look, but she couldn't say anything. It was going to drive her mad if she couldn't—

And then suddenly she had it. She leapt off the bed, only pausing long enough to say, "You have no idea how much you just helped us, even not knowing what's going on."

She dashed down the stairs, thoughts running at a thousand kilometres an hour. When she reached the common room, her mind briefly registered that Ginny was right; Fred did seem unusually quiet sitting in his chair scratching out an essay as the others laughed and cut up rather than worked. George threw him a glance, but went right back to telling some sort of animated story. She didn't have time to worry about what was bothering, nor that her two confidantes were surrounded by half a dozen other Gryffindors.

"I've figured it out," she said, walking straight up to Fred. He looked up at her, surprised at her sudden appearance. "Marriage!"

The rest of the group went silent. Only George made a sound, laughing and saying, "I wouldn't say no, Ron. She's apt to curse _your_ bollocks off."

Hermione turned back to glare at him. "I'm not talking about getting married. I've just figured out a tactic for my independent studies project, is all."

Fred's eyes widened, but he smiled so slightly that the others would like not notice. "But it's Saturday, Hermione. Do we really have to work on your dumb project _today_?"

"I have no idea how you ever managed to make it to seventh year with that attitude, Ronald," she said with a huff. She looked at George. "I could use your help as well, you know. If you can spare a little time from your audience. You know where I'll be."

She barely had to wait for a minute outside the portrait hole before both Fred and George followed her. They eyed her with equal curiosity and confusion, and Hermione thought she could still read a little something else in Fred's eyes. Worry, maybe. But he smiled and grabbed her hand.

"Come on, Herms," he said, batting his eyelashes. "You know you can't stay mad at me. After all, you find my obliviousness and inconsiderateness adorable."

"Thank Merlin I don't have actually put up with that right now," she said, but she smiled sweetly at him and squeezed his hand. "Come on. We've got a lot to talk about."

They started down the stairs, but she stopped suddenly for a second to turn back and glare at him. "But call me 'Herms' again, and I really will hex you."

* * *

Author's Note:

Wow, you guys have no idea how much trouble this chapter gave me. Eventually I just had to turn off my internal editor and write the damn thing, so I hope it worked for you. I can only pray that the next chapter won't be quite as difficult. Next we'll get a little visit from Harry and Ron, so we'll see how much more complicated that makes things. :-)

Thanks for being so patient everyone!


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